Reading Bodies: Physiognomy as a Strategy of Persuasion in Early Christian Discourse 9780567684387, 9780567684400, 9780567684394

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LIBRARY OF NEW TESTAMENT STUDIES

597 Formerly Journal for the Study of the New Testament Supplement Series

Editor Chris Keith

Editorial Board Dale C. Allison, John M. G. Barclay, Lynn H. Cohick, R. Alan Culpepper, Craig A. Evans, Robert Fowler, Simon J. Gathercole, Juan Hernandez, John S. Kloppenborg, Michael Labahn, Love L. Sechrest, Robert Wall, Steve Walton, Catrin H. Williams

READING BODIES

Physiognomy as a Strategy of Persuasion in Early Christian Discourse

Callie Callon

T&T CLARK Bloomsbur y Publishing Plc 50 Bedford Square, London, WC1B 3DP, UK

BLOOMSBURY, T&T CLARK and the T&T Clark logo are trademarks of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc First published in Great Britain 2019 Paperback edition published 2020 Copyright © Callie Callon, 2019 Callie Callon has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as Author of this work. For legal purposes the Acknowledgements on p. viii constitute an extension of this copyright page. All rights reser ved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage or retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publishers. Bloomsbur y Publishing Plc does not have any control over, or responsibility for, any third-party websites referred to or in this book. All internet addresses given in this book were correct at the time of going to press. The author and publisher regret any inconvenience caused if addresses have changed or sites have ceased to exist, but can accept no responsibility for any such changes. A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Librar y. A catalog record for this book is available from the Library of Congress.

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CONTENTS Acknowledgments

vii

INTRODUCTION

1

Chapter 1 OVERVIEW OF ANCIENT PHYSIOGNOMY AND THE STATE OF THE QUESTION

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Chapter 2 THE PHYSIOGNOMY OF A HERETIC: PHYSIOGNOMIC POLEMIC AS A COMPONENT OF PERSUASION IN DEMARCATING “INSIDERS” AND “OUTSIDERS”

39

Chapter 3 THE PHYSIOGNOMY OF THE (IDEAL) EARLY CHRISTIAN

79

Chapter 4 THE PHYSIOGNOMY OF A MARTYR

115

Chapter 5 “HE HAD NEITHER FORM NOR BEAUTY”: THE PHYSIOGNOMIC CURIOSITY OF THE NEGATIVE DESCRIPTIONS OF THE PHYSICAL APPEARANCE OF JESUS

131

CONCLUSIONS

157

Bibligraphy Author Index Subject Index

159 169 171

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS This work is a revision of my doctoral dissertation, and I would like to thank the members of my committee for their consistent support, encouragement, and extremely helpful feedback. Thank you to John Kloppenborg for surpassing all expectations as an advisor and mentor and for providing me with opportunities too numerous to count. Thank you to John Marshall for offering insights that changed the way I  thought about things and gave me a new perspective, for pointing me to physiognomy in the first place, and for sharing my sense of humor when stress got the better of me. Thank you to both Andreas Bendlin and my external reader, J.  Albert Harrill, for encouragement and invaluable feedback. Some of the revisions for this work were undertaken during a postdoc under Richard Ascough’s supervision. I would like to thank him for being so generous with his time, resources, kindness, and advice. I would also like to thank my family and friends for their continuous support. Thank you to my family for their patience and encouragement and to my friends for helping me to see the humor in situations where it was very much needed.

I N T R O DU C T IO N

In contemporary society, persons are often discouraged from drawing inferences from appearance. “Never judge a book by its cover” is an often-spouted adage when it comes to judging a person’s character by way of his or her physique, ethnicity, or bodily comportment. Despite the fact that many of us nonetheless do so—at least on some intuitive level, even if it is not by deliberate or conscious analysis—it is still a predominantly condemned practice. This would have struck persons in antiquity as decidedly odd, if not to say a rather foolish and missed opportunity. Rather, assessment of character predicated on physical appearance was developed into a widely accepted system of thought and one that was by no means shunned but instead held cultural resonance. It was thought that there was an important and revelatory correlation between the body and the soul or character of an individual. In antiquity, the body mattered as a means of assessing a person’s character—it was deemed by some to be a reliable guide to discerning flaws and moral shortcomings that the subject would likely prefer to keep concealed as well as to vindicate or prove moral superiority in one’s self or those who one wished to praise. Physiognomy, this practice of interpreting the body to discern character, was frequently utilized in the service of encomium and invective. Physiognomic consciousness—the less formal and more widely attested practice—permeated ancient interpretations of character. Attested in a wide range of literary genres and documentary sources, physiognomic thought could, with a few details of physical description, categorize a person as either praise worthy or morally deficient. Given that this system of thought had such broad cultural traction—even if specific physical attributes had a varying valence of meaning dependent on a given context—it is little wonder that it was also employed in discourses of persuasion. Although it was ultimately a highly subjective enterprise, many authors employed this system of thought to provide physical “proof ” of an author or orator’s claims about a person’s (or persons’) character. In turn, capitalizing on a person’s physical appearance for rhetorical purposes was considered fair game, and a rather popular one at that. It allowed for the physical to participate in the realm of the rhetorical, and the two mutually reinforced each other. While this agonistic and rhetorical component of physiognomic thought has been discussed among classical scholars of antiquity, very little attention has been paid to how early Christian writers also engaged in this form of rhetorical

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persuasion. The following argues that many of these authors were not terribly different from their non-Christian contemporaries in utilizing physiognomic thought and tropes in discourses that sought to persuade an audience. Not only to indicate positive virtues in themselves and other members of their communities to demonstrate moral superiority, but also to prove to an audience that their negative opinions of their opponents were accurate and empirically verifiable assessments, where their moral shortcomings were manifest in their physical appearance. Similarly, although discourses of persuasion and cultivation of group identity among early Christian authors have been addressed by scholars generally, this particular component of rhetorical strategy has not received the attention it warrants. Examination of this often overlooked aspect of early Christian discourse provides fresh insight into their rhetorical strategy. Moreover, it demonstrates that despite our anachronistic division between the “body” and “soul” and a tendency to assume the latter was of sole concern to many of these authors, this work argues that for many early Christians, the former was considered to be a helpful means of discerning—and indeed “proving”—the condition of latter. Such an examination is important because it sheds light on a component of discourse that was widely employed in a variety of different situations that required additional elements of persuasion. This in turn allows for an appreciation of this rather neglected form of rhetorical polemic and praise among early Christian communities and authors. Thus far examinations of rhetorical discourse in early Christian self-definition have only addressed part of the picture regarding persuasive tactics. The present work fills in these gaps and shows there was a visual and indeed corporeal element that played a significant role in this discourse. This work investigates how some early Christian authors utilized physiognomic thought as rhetorical strategy: a means of denigrating their theological opponents and forging group boundaries as pertained to heretics, as a strategy for selfrepresentation for early Christians to demonstrate their moral superiority to Greco-Roman outsiders, and for cultivating collective self-identity in some of the martyrologies. The work also addresses the rather curious tension between the broader conception of divinely favored figures as physically attractive and the espousal of Jesus as the opposite by some early Christian authors. What follows seeks to establish physiognomic consciousness as an important component of early Christian rhetoric, particularly as employed for the purpose of persuasion. The authors whom I address can be shown to have operated with this physiognomic consciousness, and the work examines how this influenced their rhetorical strategies.

Chapter 1 O V E RV I EW O F A N C I E N T P H YSIO G N OM Y A N D T H E S TAT E O F T H E Q U E ST IO N

In 76 B.C.E., Marcus Tullius Cicero undertook the defense of Quintus Roscius Gallus. Roscius was a Roman actor being sued on the contention that he had swindled the litigator C. Fannius Chaerea out of a substantial amount of money. In order to convince his audience that Roscius’s character would not lend itself to such deceit but that Chaerea’s certainly would, Cicero invites the jury to consult the latter’s physical appearance on display before them. Cicero queries, Doesn’t that head and those eyebrows so closely shaved seem to reek of evil intent and scream out sharp practice? If a person’s silent face allows any conjecture, doesn’t Chaerea’s whole body, from the tips of his toes to the top of his head, seem to unite in showing him made of cheating and trickery? His eyes, brows, forehead, in sum, the whole face, which is the speech of the unspoken mind, has brought people to commit crimes of deception.1

While in a modern North American or European courtroom an appeal to the physical character traits of persons involved in a case would likely be laughed out of court, this excerpt from Cicero’s defense speech clearly illustrates the persuasive power that physiognomy—the perceived correlation between physical appearance and moral character—held in the ancient world. Unlike idealized modern commonplaces that discourage persons from making these sorts of inferences, in antiquity forging these connections was not only commonly accepted practice but was also deemed by many to an accurate diagnostic tool for discerning an individual’s “true” character or moral disposition. Jennifer Glancy observes that despite lack of intention to do so, today we still make implicit value judgment of persons by how we perceive their bodies. In discussing Maud Gleason’s argument that the body is shaped and interpreted as a cultural artifact in her work on physiognomy in the Second Sophistic, Glancy notes that this is a concept both alien and familiar to a modern audience: “Alien 1.  Rosc. com. 7.20 (Freese, LCL). This passage is also cited by Tamsyn S. Barton, Power and Knowledge:  Astrology, Physiognomies, and Medicine under the Roman Empire (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1995), 112–13.

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because we do not like to admit that we make assumptions about other persons based on corporal presentation: whether a stranger is lithe or squat, pockmarked or ruddy-faced; whether a new acquaintance returns our gaze. Familiar because we make such assumptions daily: we assume that the deep voice we hear on the phone is male and we do not know how to respond when the speaker identifies herself as Mary.”2 Mladen Popovic briefly discusses the similarities and differences between ancient physiognomy and contemporary tendencies to form an opinion of an individual based on his or her appearance, dress, and mannerisms. While modern evaluations of this type are similar to physiognomy in that certain assumptions and prejudices inform an evaluation of a person’s character based on appearance, Popovic rightly notes that this contemporary practice is different from ancient physiognomy in that “[a]lthough preconceptions undoubtedly play a role, this is hardly applying in a conscious way a fixed set of rules for judging the physical traits of someone else as indications of his or her personality. It is precisely this conscious reflection on the body as signifier and what is signified by it that characterizes the art of physiognomics in a more formal sense.”3 In antiquity, physiognomy proved exceedingly useful in situations where rhetorical invective or encomium could advance a speaker’s or author’s position. Physiognomic thought played an important role in the art of persuasion in the ancient world. The underlying logic of the principles of physiognomy was predicated on the view that the body and soul were sympathetically related and intrinsically intertwined, and that each acted upon the other. The view that “body and soul react on each other”4 provided the basis for the physiognomic belief that moral character could be discerned by physical characteristics, including how one comported or cultivated one’s body. As Sextus Empiricus remarks, “[T]he body is a kind of expression of the soul, as in fact is proved by the science of physiognomy.”5 On this understanding, aspects of an individual’s physical appearance were scrutinized and evaluated on the belief that the proper understanding of a given physical trait would reveal insight into the person’s character. Physicality was inextricably linked with and provided insight into morality. Remarkably little about a person’s physical appearance was left unevaluated in ancient physiognomy. Any aspect of physicality, no matter how unimportant or obscure it might seem to a modern audience, could be given physiognomic readings. As Pseudo-Aristotle advises, “The physiognomist draws his data from movements, shapes and colours, and from habits as appearing in the face, from the

2.  Jennifer Glancy, Corporal Knowledge:  Early Christian Bodies (New  York; Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010), 9. 3. Mladen Popovic, Reading the Human Body: Physiognomics and Astrology in the Dead Sea Scrolls and Hellenistic-Early Roman Period Judaism (Leiden: Brill, 2007), 2. 4. Ps.-Aristotle, Physiogn., 808b (Hett, LCL). 5. Sextus Empiricus, Pyr., 1.85 (Bury, LCL).

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growth of hair, from the smoothness of the skin, from voice, from the condition of the flesh, from parts of the body, and from the general character of the body.”6 Not only were static features of appearance (such as eye color and nose shape) ripe for physiognomic analysis, but so too was how one cultivated and comported one’s body (discussed further below). These components of physicality were subject to numerous analytical dissections, providing varied potential inferences to be concluded about an individual’s character. Yet, as Mladen Popovic rightly notes, “[a]lthough the physical descriptions seem to evolve into ever more complex and nuanced distinctions, the characterization of people stays broadly within familiar stereotypes, as known from, for example, Theophrastus.”7 Thus, despite the intricate specifications that comprise aspects of physical appearance, the “type” of character that they indicate is not nearly so varied as there existed a conception of stock “types” of persons in the ancient world, predicated on the idea of their having dispositions toward particular virtues or vices. One of the premises of physiognomy was also what (rather circularly) bolstered its appeal: the appeal to what was deemed “self-evident” and grounded in nature. Physiognomy was conceived of by many as a reliable and impartial tool to assess and categorize others, in accordance with “nature” or how the cosmological world had arranged things. Consequently, it was deemed all the more persuasive as it was couched as an objective truth that could be arrived at by empirical observation, and being cognizant of what these observations indicated. It was frequently deemed to be a form of objective knowledge of the nature of things, a science or art (τέχνη) in its own right.8 Given that it was thought to be an objective and empirical process, it was believed that it could be relied upon to detect a moral failing that a subject might otherwise try to conceal. And it was generally understood that all individuals had some sort of moral shortcoming they would wish to hide. As Gleason observes, “[T]he physiognomic subject, it is taken for granted, has something to conceal . . . physiognomy must therefore always be alert to deception. Signs that one’s subject is overcompensating is a dead giveaway.”9 As such, physiognomy itself could be used to conceal, but in most instances only to a point—ultimately, some slipup of the subject’s physicality will reveal the truth. Cicero provides an excellent example of this seeming tension. In his advice to his son, he cautions him to pay specific attention to his gait so as not to appear effeminate or of disordered mind, yet he

6. Ps.-Aristotle, Physiogn., 808a. 7. Popovic, Reading the Human Body, 98. Here, Popovic refers to Theophrastus’s division of “types” of people in his “Characters”—thirty types in all (e.g., the flatterer, the ironic person, etc.)—although Theophrastus does not consistently relate physical descriptions of these types, he does sometimes allude to this. 8. Ps.-Aristotle, Physiogn., 806A. 9.  Maud Gleason, “The Semiotics of Gender: Physiognomy and Self-Fashioning in the Second Century CE,” in Before Sexuality: The Construction of Erotic Experience in the Ancient Greek World, ed. Froma I. Zeitlin (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1990), 407.

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also cautions against paying too much attention to how one should comport his body for fear of going too far and making a mockery of the look one is hoping to achieve. He states, “[C]onsequently, there is need of constant management of the eyes, because the expression of the countenance ought not to be too much altered, for fear of slipping into looks that are in bad taste, or into some distortion.”10 However, this appeal to objectivity predominantly only masked cultural and ideological assumptions and commonly held conventions, perpetuating socially constructed perspectives. As Maria Michela Sassi remarks, “[A] bodily feature is judged according to the general impression produced by the individual, who is in turn influenced by that same feature and by the meaning it carries in a context clearly structured by a scale of social values.”11 Nonetheless, despite the paucity of evidence that was not socially constructed to appeal to, physiognomy was still understood as something of a scientific undertaking, predicated on empirical observation and the processes of deduction. Sassi has formulated the underlying rationale of the practice as a logical syllogism, recreated here: Major premise: All animals with large limbs (B) are courageous (A) Minor Premise: C is an animal with large limbs (B) Conclusion: C is courageous (A)12 Thus, physiognomy was understood as a logical deduction process predicated on rational thought. In other words, in the ancient world, physiognomy was credited by many to be a reliable analytical tool to discern character, one grounded in sound and logical principles, and thus was taken with a proportionate degree of gravity. It had a significant amount of traction both in formal study as well as in popular consensus in informing evaluations of a subject’s character. Given the respect it commanded, it is little wonder that it was so widely employed, especially in view of the face-to-face nature of the ancient Mediterranean, where personal interaction was nearly inescapable in forming social and business connections. In ancient Rome, the boundaries between public and private were “hopelessly blurred,” given that sections of the home were essentially public spaces, with the omnipresence of slaves and, in the case of patrons, their clients who came to pay their respects each morning.13 In this context, Van Houdt notes that even so-called private behavior takes on a broader significance:  “it becomes a kind 10. De or. 3.59.222 (Rackham, LCL). 11. Maria Michela Sassi, The Science of Man in Ancient Greece, trans. P. Tucker (Chicago, Ill.: University of Chicago Press, 2001), 73. 12.  Sassi, The Science of Man, 53. While here she takes as her example the zoological method (see below), this same formula is applicable to all types of physiognomy. For example, Major Premise: blue eyes indicate intelligence, Minor Premise: Person X has blue eyes, Conclusion: Person X is intelligent. 13.  Toon Van Houdt, “Speaking Eyes, Concealing Tongues:  Social Function of Physiognomics in the Early Roman Empire,” in Sprakets Speglingar:  Festskrift till Birger Bergh, ed. Arne Jonsson and Och Anders Piltz (Ängelholm: Skaneforl, 2000), 636–41, 638.

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of social gesture and public behaviour:  it is part and parcel of a strategic selfpresentation that is aimed at preserving one’s reputation as a member of the social and intellectual elite. It is precisely here, at the juncture of private and public, that physiognomies comes into play.”14 Physiognomic principles were thus employed in these situations as a strategy to present one’s self in the best possible light, adopting gestures and expressions as a means of communicating (or advertising) via the body the virtues one wished to be associated with. As Van Houdt remarks, “[W]hat first seemed to be merely an analytical tool, a scientific method to classify various types of character, thus became a social instrument, a practical method to suggest the presence of virtues such as moderation, dignity, and decency.” Yet even beyond attempts at self-fashioning and self-projection, the role of physiognomic principles as a social instrument—particularly one of social control—is manifest with even greater frequency as a method to detect the perceived character flaws of others, which was of significant importance in the ancient Mediterranean. Citing the second-century physiognomist Polemo, Maud Gleason notes that “everyone who had to choose a son-in-law or a travelling companion, deposit his valuables before a journey, or make a business loan, had to become at least an amateur physiognomist when making risky inferences from human surfaces to human depths.”15 Polemo expressly advocates the use of this science for just these purposes of discernment: If divine men have made any discovery that can be of truly immense benefit to those who study it, it is physiognomics. For nobody would deposit in trust his financial assets, his heirlooms, his wife, or his children—or enter into any sort of social relationship—with a person whose form foretells the signs of dishonesty, lechery, or double dealing. As if by some God-given, inerrant, and prophetic art, the physiognomist understands the character and purposes, so to speak, of all men: how to choose associations only from those who are worthy, and how to guard against the evildoing of unprincipled people without having to experience it first. For this reason, wise men should apply themselves with all their strength to working through the signs of this art.16

Physiognomy, then, was deemed to have the ability to determine whom one should associate with, and more importantly, with whom one should avoid having contact. Perhaps the clearest examples of the degree to which this was taken seriously are instances where physiognomy informed—if not to say dictated— group membership practices. Although speaking primarily of ancient Rome, I  posit that Van Houdt’s conclusions are equally applicable to any urban ancient Mediterranean society in the Roman Empire. 14. Van Houdt, “Speaking Eyes,” 639. 15. Gleason, “The Semiotics of Gender,” 389. 16.  Polemo, Physiogn., A2. Translations from Polemo are taken from Robert Hoyland in Simon Swain, ed., Seeing the Face, Seeing the Soul: Polemon’s Physiognomy from Classical Antiquity to Medieval Islam (Oxford; New York: Oxford University Press, 2007).

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Popovic and Elizabeth Evans both note that Pythagoras—deemed by some to be the inventor or discoverer of physiognomy—employed physiognomy in order to determine who was or was not permitted to join his school.17 This tradition is related in Aulus Gellius’s Attic Nights: The order and method followed by Pythagoras, and afterwards by his school and successors, in admitting and training their pupils were as follows:  At the very outset he “physiognomized” the young men who presented themselves for instruction . . . Then, when he had thus examined a man and found him suitable, he at once gave orders that he should be admitted to the school.18

Here then is a clear example where physiognomy was deemed relevant and respected to such a degree that it was employed to forge group boundaries. As Popovic remarks of this version of the story and others, “[t]hese examples demonstrate the belief that physiognomics could function as a tool for exercising social control, thought they do not shed much light on the actual proceedings of such a physiognomic text. One should, nonetheless, allow for the possibility that physical, or more specifically physiognomic, examinations could be used by groups to control and maintain their boundaries for new members or other people.”19 Another example of this is identified by Popovic in his work on the Qumran community. Although he takes as his focus the astrological form of physiognomy

17.  Popovic, Reading the Human Body, 102; Elizabeth C. Evans, “Physiognomics in the Ancient World,” TAPS 59, no. 5 (1969):  1–101 (46). Barton notes a tradition found in Galen where Hippocrates was deemed to be the founder of physiognomy and discusses the close link between it and theories of the humors (Power and Knowledge, 98–99; Galen Quod animi mores, 57, 10–13  =  K.4.798). Hartsock also accepts Galen’s designation of Hippocrates as the founder of physiognomy (Chad Hartsock, Sight and Blindness in LukeActs: The Use of Physical Features in Characterization [Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2008], 8). On Galen’s use of physiognomic thought, see Evans, “Galen the Physician as Physiognomist,” TAPA 76 (1945): 287–98. 18.  Aulus Gellius, Noct. att. 1.9.1–3 (Rolfe, LCL). This passage is also cited by Popovic (Reading the Human Body, 102)  and Evans (“Physiognomics in the Ancient World,” 46). Popovic further relates that there is a reference to Plato being subject to a similar physiognomic evaluation by Socrates before the latter took him on as a pupil (Apuleius, Dogm. Plat., 1.1). Similarly, Evans notes (“Physiognomics in the Ancient World,” 46) instances of physiognomic testing of potential students of philosophy by Indian sages in the narrative of Vit. Apoll. by Philostratus: “in many cases a man’s eyes reveal the secrets of his character, and in many cases there is material for forming a judgement and appraising his value in his eyebrows and cheeks, for from these features the dispositions of people can be detected by wise and scientific men, as images are seen in a looking glass” (2.30 [Conybeare, LCL]). 19. Popovic, Reading the Human Body, 103.

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(which is not addressed in the current work), Popovic demonstrates that physiognomic principles were also at work in the Dead Sea Scrolls and also carried significant weight in the formation of group boundaries. He argues that 4QZodiacal Physiognomy was “used in a sectarian context like that of the Qumran community that wished to guard against demonic attacks. The physiognomicastrological knowledge was used as the justification for a pre-emptive strike, so to speak, by denying entry into the community to people whose zodiacal spirits were found upon physiognomic inquiry to be potentially too dangerous or maleficent.”20 Ambrose of Milan offers an additional example of this regulation of group boundaries predicated on physiognomic principles in his barring one individual from joining the clergy based on the unseemly way he walked.21 Chad Hartsock posits that perhaps the type of gait that Ambrose so objected to was linked to perceptions of effeminacy.22 Here it is important to note that effeminacy—which surfaces repeatedly in physiognomic thought—was considered a moral failing and ignoble character trait in the ancient world. Part of the rationale for this opinion was derived from the one-sex scale model of gender in ancient thought. Gender was conceived along a scale between masculine on one end and feminine on the other, based on a tallying of different attributes. A person could move up (metaphorically, toward the masculine) or down. As Brittany E. Wilson observes, even elite males “were not securely fixed atop the gender hierarchy but were in constant danger of ‘slipping down’ toward the female pole . . . Even for men of ‘respectable’ social status, manliness was not necessarily a given, but something that had to be fought for and consistently reaffirmed.”23 Masculinity was not limited to just biological sex but also understood as manifest (or not) in a host of different bodily traits and comportment: “Men could be labeled as effeminate for exhibiting a number of ‘womanly’ characteristics, such as walking with mincing steps, speaking with an enervated voice, wearing ornate clothing, overindulging in perfume, curling the hair, and depilating.”24 Given that the same sex model held that each individual will possess a mix of masculine and feminine characteristics, an observer could—with the help of physiognomy in particular—tally these up to see whether masculinity of femininity prevailed. As Polemo suggests, Nor should you ignore all that I  have commanded you regarding the physiognomical scrutiny of the signs of masculinity and femininity. You should learn this from the gaze, the movement, and the voice, and then measure up one part with the other until you come to know where resides precedence (of one over the other). For in masculinity there is femininity, and in femininity

20. Ibid., 238–39. 21. Discussed more in depth in Chapter 3. 22. Hartsock, Sight and Blindness, 139. 23.  Brittany E.  Wilson, Unmanly Men:  Reconfigurations of Masculinity in Luke-Acts (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015), 42. 24. Unmanly Men, 43.

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Because this gender system was a sliding scale, and that difference was of degree and not of “kind,” this allowed for the possibility of gender slippage. For a man, any slippage downward in the hierarchy rendered him more womanish and moreover made him “unnatural” in that he no longer conformed to the perceived “natural” order. Moreover, any womanish or feminine qualities were automatically considered a defect, given that women were the natural physical and moral inferiors of men, as was demonstrated in their physiques.26 For social control involving gender, then, physiognomy once again played a significant role—to attempt to ostracize or at least undermine the effeminate man and to provide purportedly logical rationale and empirical evidence for the ideology that women were naturally inferior to men.27 Similarly, as Harrill has demonstrated (discussed below), physiognomy was also employed to detect so-called slave or slavish characteristics, which in turn, at least in some cases, helped to justify the idea of a natural slavery—some individuals were understood to be simply slavish in character, as indicated by their gestures and mannerisms. Again, the appeal to physiognomy as an objective indicator of character helped to reinforce cultural norms and social constructions and lend further persuasion to a physiognomically minded author’s assertions. In antiquity, the body and how it was cultivated and comported—or at least how these were evaluated and interpreted by others—was of decided importance.

25.  De Physiognomonia, TK 3207 (trans. Hoyland in Swain, Seeing the Face, Seeing the Soul, 393). 26. Although speaking primarily on the reasons for difference between male and female genitalia, it seems as though for Galen this extends to the entire body: “Therefore it is no wonder that the female is more incomplete than the male to the extent that she is colder. Just as the blind mole rat has incomplete eyes . . . so too woman is more incomplete than man in the generative parts. For the parts were formed within her when she was still developing in the womb, but they were unable to peep out and emerge on the outside because of a weakness in heat. This produced a creature more incomplete than one that was complete in every part, but it offered no small advantage to the whole race, for it is necessary that something female exist. For you mustn’t think that the creator would deliberately make half our race incomplete and as it were mutilated unless there would be some advantage from this very mutilation” (UP 14.6–7 = 2.296–7 H). 27.  As Maud Gleason remarks of tampering with secondary sex characteristics such as voice and facial hair in physiognomic evaluation, “since [these] are ‘read’ socially as signs of the inner heat that constitutes a man’s claim to physiological and cultural superiority over women, eunuchs, and children, those who tampered with the most visible variables of masculinity in their self-presentation provoked vehement moral criticism because they were rightly suspected of undermining the symbolic language in which male privilege was written” (Gleason, “The Semiotics of Gender,” 401).

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It played a role in personal relationships, and by extension group boundaries, and enabled the practitioner of it (so it was thought) to refine the image of himself that he wished to project as well as to avoid the company of those he deemed less than savory based on these same principles. It enabled an author or speaker to help persuade an audience in his praise or blame of an individual. Perhaps the most legendary account is that of the dispute between Polemo and his rival Favorinus, where the former lambasted the latter’s character utilizing a physiognomic reading of his physical appearance.28 Barton articulates Polemo’s motive in stark terms, asserting that “[r]ather than actually making wax images of his opponents to burn [as in so-called magical practice], with physiognomy he constructed their bodies so as to destroy their characters. And destroying the ἦθος (ēthos: moral persona) of a rival deprived him of the moral claim to persuade.”29 Polemo is thus an excellent example of the persuasive nature of physiognomy when employed to denigrate an opponent and undermine his moral worth. Physiognomy was especially popular during certain periods in antiquity: from the third through the first centuries B.C.E., the second century C.E. (when its popularity was at its peak), and then in the fourth century C.E. when there was a revival of interest in it.30 These dates, as one might expect, correspond to the production of physiognomic manuals.31 The earliest is erroneously attributed to Aristotle, produced in the third century B.C.E.. Polemo wrote his in the second century C.E., and this inspired an epitome of it in the fourth century C.E. by Adamantius and an anonymous Latin manual that was also composed in the fourth century. Ps.-Aristotle outlines three basic types of physiognomy, which had been undertaken before he composed his own work that in turn greatly influenced subsequent manuals. Evans refers to these as the zoological method, the ethnographic method, and the method that pertains to varying facial expressions, gait, and gesture, to name but a few aspects of how a person comported his or her body that was subject to physiognomic scrutiny.32 Although these are described as three different methods in this work, this is perhaps best understood as an attempt by Ps.-Aristotle to impose order on an otherwise rather unruly practice— to provide a structure so that the practice could be understood and undertaken as a science. That these methods were not necessarily discreet or mutually exclusive

28.  Philostratus, VS 10.13–24 relates this episode, and Maud Gleason discusses this rivalry in depth in chapters 1–2 of Making Men: Sophists and Self-Presentation in Ancient Rome (Princeton, N.J.:  Princeton University Press, 1995). This is discussed briefly in the following chapter. 29. Barton, Power and Knowledge, 97. 30.  Evans, “Physiognomics in the Ancient World,” 5.  Here, Evans also notes that a “physiognomic consciousness” (on this term please see below) existed far earlier, discernible in works from the seventh and sixth centuries B.C.E. 31.  For a discussion of authorship and literary relationships between these, see Evans, “Physiognomics in the Ancient World,” 6–16. 32. Evans, “Physiognomics in the Ancient World,” 5–6.

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is demonstrable not only in the manual itself33 but also in concrete practice found in other works that utilize physiognomy and physiognomic principles. The zoological approach is based on the perceived parallels of the physique and nature of humans and animals. So, for example, a man who had the attributes similar to a lion such as stiff hair was understood to be endowed with the character of bravery, the lion being considered the exemplar of positive masculine traits, including courage.34 In contrast, if a man had soft hair he was deemed to have a timid nature, corresponding to the soft hair and timid nature of sheep, deer, and hares.35 Moreover, this zoological method also had a significant role in ancient gender-typing, predicated on the idea of effeminacy as a vice discussed above. Sassi explicates the logic behind this form of physiognomy as well: “if a characteristic (A) such as courage is accompanied by a sign (B) such as largeness of limb in all individuals belonging to a homogenous class (lion), then the presence of (B) in a member of another class allows the inference to (A) is an inherent property of that individual also.”36 The ethnographic method was predicated on the idea that a given geographical region from which a person originates will dictate certain physical features that in turn have their own corresponding character traits. These are often designated as a separate ἔθνος of people, such as Egyptians, Thracians, and Scythians, and peoples of a given region are deemed to have similar appearances and, by extension, similar characters.37 For example, Ps.-Aristotle asserts that “those who are too

33. For example, gesture can either be addressed under the zoological rubric, such as an individual who swings his arms from side to side while walking is deemed a blusterer, like the horse (813a), or under the third type (addressed in this same passage), where a gesture might be understood to convey a trait independently of an animal comparison:  “Those who walk with feet and legs turned out are effeminate” (813a). As Ps.-Aristotle concedes (805b), “It is possible to make up a science of physiognomics according to each of these methods, and also by others and to make a selection of characteristics in different ways.” This is but one instance and example of the fluidity—and indeed subjectivity—inherent in physiognomic thought. 34. “The lion of all animals seems to have the most perfect share of the animal type . . . Above on the forehead towards the muzzle hair sloping outwards and like bristles.” (809b). 35.  “Soft hair shows timidity and stiff hair courage. This is based on observation of all the animal kingdom. For the deer, the hare and sheep are the most timid of all animals and have the softest hair; the lion and wild boar are the bravest and have very stiff hair” (806b). 36. Sassi, The Science of Man, 72. 37.  Whether or not this method can or should be considered a sort of “proto-racism” is beyond the current scope and focus of this work. It will suffice to say that this method of physiognomy does seem to reflect a stereotyping against those who do not meet the Greco-Roman ideal of physicality, and specific aspects of this will be addressed below in subsequent chapters. On the subject of proto-racism and the role that physiognomics might have played in it, see Benjamin H. Isaac, The Invention of Racism in Classical Antiquity (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 2006).

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swarthy are cowardly; this applies to Egyptians and Ethiopians.”38 Similarly, “those with very woolly hair are cowardly; this applies to the Ethiopians.”39 Again, the physiognomist presumes an almost universality in physique and thus character of subjects of a given ethnographic region. The third method that Mikeal Parsons terms the “anatomical” method is somewhat less structured than the first two.40 Hartsock describes this method a bit more concretely, referring to it as “the method of physical features or the expression method.”41 It is something of a hodgepodge of varying facial expressions, voice, gestures, gait, and much more, which are ascribed a corresponding character trait. This is done presumably based on either culturally constructed conventions or perhaps the theory of humors, or perhaps some combination of the two.42 As Popovic notes, even the manuals themselves rarely articulate the physiological basis for the correspondence drawn between body and soul or character.43 Although it is not clear whether this particular method is in mind, Koen De Temmerman posits a helpful distinction regarding physiognomic portrayals: the “invariable” method that observes physical characteristics that are static and do not change (such as eye color, physical frame, etc.) and the “variable” method that pertains to physical features that do alter, or, as he suggests, indicate “body language.”44 He notes that Ps.-Aristotle cautions against undertaking a physiognomic reading predicated solely on aspects of appearance that are a physical effect of a particular emotion (which is thus temporary like the emotion that prompted it) in favor of habitual or permanent aspects of appearance that reveal more permanent characteristics.45 Yet, De Temmerman rightly notes that despite this caution the manual nevertheless lists instances of body language that are potential cites of physiognomic readings including movement and voice.46 De Temmerman also observes that for Ps.-Aristotle even if variable features are not

38. Ps.-Aristotle, Physiogn., 812a. 39. Ps.-Aristotle, Physiogn., 812b. 40.  Mikeal Carl Parsons, Body and Character in Luke and Acts:  The Subversion of Physiognomy in Early Christianity (Grand Rapids, Mich.: Baker Academic, 2006). 41. Hartsock, Sight and Blindness, 20. 42. See Barton (Power and Knowledge, 98) for a discussion on the link between ancient medicine and physiognomy. 43. Popovic, Reading the Human Body, 95. 44. Koen De Temmerman, Crafting Characters: Heroes and Heroines in the Ancient Greek Novel (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014), 39. 45.  Ps.-Aristotle, Physiogn., 806a. He also relates that any signs that “are permanent must prove some permanent characteristics; but those that come and go [such as a sneeze, discussed below] cannot be true signs.” (806a) 46.  De Temmerman, Crafting characters, 39, citing Ps.-Aristotle, 806a, and referencing Porphyry’s Life of Pythagoras, 13, on physiognomy as pertaining to the study of movements of the body.

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a direct indication of ethnos, they are indications of one’s temporary condition or pathos, “a condition that can, in turn, be indicative of ethnos.”47 He cites Ps.Aristotle’s definition of blushing as indicative of shame and that if recurrent this feature is an indication of the character trait shyness—or, as De Temmermen suggests, “the permanent characteristic of inclination towards shame.”48 In any case, this rejection of employing invariable physical characteristics for physiognomic readings as advocated by the manuals seems to have fallen on deaf ears in the broader use of physiognomics (and as previously noted in some instances in the manuals themselves). To note but one example of this, Dio Chrysostom relates the anecdote of an individual who was well known for his infallible discernment of character based on external appearance yet was initially stumped by a subject presented to him. The man undergoing the physiognomist’s scrutiny was rugged and unconcerned with his physical appearance, and at first the physiognomist admitted that he did not know how to characterize the man. The subject then sneezed, and his character was revealed to the physiognomist, who identified the man as a kinaidos.49 Here, then, is a clear instance of some sort of temporary or impermanent physical manifestation being employed to reveal a permanent internal character trait. A parallel story is told by Diogenes Laertius of the Stoic Cleanthes likewise recognizing a kinaidos upon the latter’s sneeze.50 Consequently, in practice, even temporary physical manifestations were thought to reveal a disposition toward a character “type” that was susceptible to certain emotions. The individual was deemed not able to control his mind in a rational way that was evidenced by a lack of control over the movements of his body. As Chrysostom remarks regarding gait, “walking is a universal and uncomplicated activity, but while one man’s gait reveals his composure and the attention he gives to his conduct, another’s reveals his inner disorder and lack of self-restraint.”51 Similarly, the anecdote(s) of the sneezing kinaidos also demonstrate another violation of rules articulated in the formal manuals in the realm of the more informal physiognomic consciousness. Ps.Aristotle advises not taking one trait in isolation but drawing physiognomic conclusions from a host of different characteristics, tallying them up, so to speak, and then determining what sort of character they point to. However, in this anecdote, the singular instance of the sneeze reveals the man’s true nature, despite a host of different signs that would likely indicate a contrary one and are ultimately ignored when the physiognomist reaches his verdict. As such, the protocols outlined in the manuals were evidently not strictly adhered to in actual practice.

47. De Temmerman, Crafting characters, 39. 48. Ibid., 39. 49. 1 Tars., 33.54–55; also discussed by Gleason, Making Men, 77. 50. Vit. Soph., 7.17; also discussed by Gleason, Making Men, 77. 51. 1 Tars., 32.54 (trans. Gleason, Making Men, 61).

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Moreover, W. Jeffrey Tatum includes an exhaustive amount of instances when Plutarch employs physiognomy, and of these many are those that focus on transient facial expressions despite the prohibition of this in some of the manuals.52 Evans has helpfully labeled the use of physiognomic thought utilized beyond the strict mandates of the manuals themselves as a “physiognomic consciousness” that pervaded ancient thought and writings and indeed predates the manuals themselves. Adopting this phrase, Popovic articulates a concise definition: [It] characterize[s] those genres of Greco-Roman writings, such as epic, history and biography, drama and satire, that do not deal with physiognomics on a theoretical or technical level, but make a more general use of physiognomic notions, and [serves] to distinguish those literary forms from the theoretical and formal Greco-Roman physiognomic treatises and catalogues.53

Similarly, Hartsock notes that the nonspecialist practice of physiognomy not only predates the manuals (which I suggest represents an attempt to impose order on an extremely fluid practice) but also comprises the bulk of physiognomic thought in antiquity.54 David Lincicum addresses George Boys-Stones’s argument that physiognomy should not be identified as occupying an ancient author’s mind except in instances where a theoretical basis articulated by the author himself is present. He rightly distinguishes that Swain’s understanding is best understood as “physiognomy in the strong sense of the term” and the much more frequent instances of those “who operate with something less than a full theoretical commitment to physiognomy,” identifying the latter as operating within a physiognomic consciousness.55 In the appendix to her 1969 work, Evans identifies more than 2,000 references to texts where she views a physiognomic consciousness to be present and demonstrates repeatedly how commonplace these physiognomic assumptions were in nearly all genres of literature from the ancient world.56 Here, for the sake of brevity, I cite but a few examples of authors and genres that she identifies as participating in this consciousness in order to illustrate how ubiquitous it was in ancient thought and writing. Evans notes Ovid’s use of these principles in his description of Lucretia, the perfect loyal wife. Ovid portrays Tarquin praising her figure, snowy complexion, yellow hair, and lovely face. Lucretia reacts with gestures that indicate modesty (hiding her head in his lap and “modest” tears), and Tarquin’s conclusions of her

52.  W. Jeffrey Tatum, “The Regal Images in Plutarch’s Lives,” JHS 116 (1996):  135–51. Also cited by Hartsock, Sight and Blindness, 43 nt. 59. 53. Popovic, Reading the Human Body, 5. 54. Hartsock, Sight and Blindness, 9. 55.  David Lincicum, “Philo and the Physiognomic Tradition,” JSJ 44, no. 1 (2013): 57–86, 64. 56. Hartsock, Sight and Blindness, 2 nt. 1, notes this number.

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character predicated on these looks and gestures are confirmed:  “her face was worthy of its peer, her soul.”57 In turn, Ovid is able to persuade his audience of the perfection of the woman he is describing—her physicality both suggests and confirms it. Evans also discusses how authors of satire and epigram utilized physiognomic principles as “an effective weapon for sharp criticism.”58 Martial describes Zoilus, a former slave who is now hated, as having red hair, a dark complexion, short feet, and bleary eyes, which Evans notes are all details that constitute a derogatory characterization. In this way, Martial is thus able to suggest to his audience that the figure in question was not one that they should empathize with. Lucian employs this method in his description of the ignorant book collector, in his invective against the professor of public speaking (perhaps Julius Pollux), and in his descriptions of parasites and philosophers.59 As such, he can convince his audience of the poor character found in these individuals in a way that is immediately appreciable. Apuleius also frequently pursues this method of persuasion, describing the hero of the Golden Ass in a way that would convey to the reader his positive character traits. Lucius is portrayed as tall but nicely proportioned, slender without being thin, a complexion that was rosy but not too red, gray eyes that are watchful and have a flashing glance just like an eagle’s, a face that was handsome in all of its features, and a graceful and unaffected gait. Evans notes that physiognomists highlight being well proportioned as one of the most important indicators of an upright character, yellow hair and flashing glances indicate intelligence, gray eyes belong to bold animals such as lions and eagles, and a rosy complexion is auspicious.60 The auditor would know from the outset that this protagonist was a favorable one with good character, based on how Apuleius described his physique. De Temmermen has observed the role that physiognomic consciousness has played in conveying character in the ancient Greek romance novel.61 He notes that while the invariable kind of physiognomy is not present to a large extent in the novels, the variable method is frequently employed. His work on the portrayal of Callirhoe’s blushing as an indication not only of character but indeed of character development demonstrates this aptly.62 In historical and biographical genres, Evans notes that Tacitus, Suetonius, and Plutarch also evince a physiognomic strategy in representation of their subjects. Suetonius portrays the hated emperor Caligula in terms reminiscent of the

57.  Ovid, Fast., 2.755–58 (Goold, LCL); Evans, “Physiognomics in the Ancient World,” 70–71. 58. Evans, “Physiognomics in the Ancient World,” 71. 59.  Evans, “Physiognomics in the Ancient World,” 72; Martial, Epigrams, 22, 54 (Shackleton Baily, LCL). 60. Meta. 2.102; Evans, “Physiognomics in the Ancient World,” 73. 61. De Temmerman, Crafting Characters. 62.  Koen De Temmerman, “Blushing Beauty:  Characterizing Blushes in Chariton’s Callirhoe,” Mnem 60 (2007): 235–52.

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unfavorable animals panther and goat. Panthers were deemed the most effeminate of animals, and goats were associated with an unnatural lust.63 Caligula’s purported exploits in this latter respect were common fodder for ancient authors. Seneca, too, utilizes physiognomy in his hostile portrait of Caligula:  “He himself was a most fruitful source of ridicule, such was the ugliness of his pale face bespeaking his madness, such the wildness of his eyes lurking beneath the brow of an old hag; such the hideousness of his bald head with its sprinkling of beggarly hairs. And he had, besides, a neck overgrown with bristles, spindle shanks, and enormous feet.”64 Documentary evidence reveals the use of physiognomic principles in order to characterize a person’s character in order to help persuade an audience. P.  Oxy 51.3617 is the notice of a runaway slave by his owner from the third century C.E., and the way the slave is described goes beyond physical description for the purposes of identification. The vexed owner writes, in addition to more commonplace identifying markers, that the fugitive slave sports a “wispy beard—in fact, with no hair at all to his beard,” and that he “swaggers around as if he were of someone of note, chattering in a shrill voice.” As Dominic Montserrat rightly argues of this papyrus, here the slave owner is using physiognomy in order to portray the slave as effeminate, insinuating that his character did not meet the standards of masculinity, which was typically thought to be the case with male slaves, at least domestic ones.65 In making clear this characterization, the master appeals to the socially constructed view of the slave body, as well as the slave’s perceived attempt to violate this via indications that were taken to be physical proclamations of selfworth. Such an appeal would only encourage other slave holders hearing this to wish to help restore the “natural order” and return the slave to bondage. Evidence of a physiognomic consciousness can also be identified in early Judean texts, beyond the Dead Sea Scrolls noted above. Ecclesiastes also relates material that seems to adhere to a physiognomic consciousness: “A man may be known by his look, and one that has understanding by his countenance, when you meet him. A man’s attire, and excessive laughter, and gait, show what he is.”66 And Popovic has also examined the understanding of the sympathetic view between soul and body

63. Evans, “Physiognomics in the Ancient World,” 54–55. 64. de Constantia 18.1; cited by Evans, “Physiognomics in the Ancient World,” 29. 65.  Dominic Montserrat, Sex and Society in Grwco-Roman Egypt (London and New  York:  Kegan Paul International, 1996), 56. As Jennifer Glancy argues in Slavery in Early Christianity (Minneapolis, Minn.:  Fortress Press, 2006), 25, “the exclusion of slaves from the category of manhood was thus implicit in ancient Mediterranean conceptions of masculinity.” I  leave aside potential exceptions to this such as gladiators and slaves used explicitly to serve as sexual foils for the character degeneration of the person’s using them as such in literary constructs. While this is an important component in understanding sexuality as pertains to slaves and slavery in antiquity, here my focus is on the perception of some that held slaves to be essentially nonmen. 66. Eccl., 19.29–30; slight modification of the translation of Lancelot Charles Lee Brenton, The Septuagint with Apocrypha: Greek and English (Peabody, Mass.: Hendrickson, 1986).

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present in some of the Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs, although he notes the relatively slight difference in that the Judean texts articulate a theological basis for this. He cites the Testament of Naphtali: “the Lord creates the body in resemblance to the spirit, and puts in the spirit according to the power of the body,” before concluding that this text and others from the T.12.Patr. demonstrate a familiarity with the premise of physiognomics that character can be discerned by physical appearance.67 In the Testament of Simeon, Simeon remarks of his brother that “Joseph was attractive in shape and beautiful in appearance, because nothing evil dwelt in him; for the face reveals any trouble of the spirit.”68 Here the attractiveness of Joseph functions as “proof ” to persuade the audience of his upright moral character. David Lincicum has demonstrated that despite a rejection of the strict physiognomics and the theoretical underpinnings of physiognomic theory, Philo of Alexandria’s work nonetheless contains material that attests to his engagement in a physiognomic consciousness.69 As I will argue later, Philo’s use of informal physiognomy is perhaps most readily apparent in his attempts to “beautify” the figure and physique of Moses, in response to the tradition that he was physically unattractive, which would indicate a deficit of the moral character required of an authoritative or divine figure in antiquity. Indeed, some texts from the Hebrew Bible also espouse physiognomic perceptions, and thus it is even less surprising to find this practice in early Christian and Judean texts. Several passages in the Hebrew Bible could serve as a precedent for the legitimacy of physiognomic thought for Judeans and Christians. This is explicitly the case in an instance noted by Teresa Shaw, although her analytical rubric is that of askesis (discussed further below). She notes that Palladius cites the proverbs verse above after his description of the physical appearance of ascetics.70 Similarly, Nicholas Marinides notes other instances of scripture being cited alongside a physiognomic reading:  Athanasius of Alexandria in his Vita Atonii states that the latter’s countenance “had a great and wonderful grace” and cites Prov. 15:13, Gen. 31:5, and 1 Sam. 16:12 as scriptural examples.71 However, Marinides also notes that some texts in the Hebrew Bible are physiognomically ambiguous, such as 1 Sam. 16:6–13 where God shows Samuel that he should look not at the appearance or stature of a man, but his heart.72 However, he further notes that David’s beauty is nonetheless mentioned and posits that perhaps this is to be

67. Popovic, Reading the Human Body, 289; T. Naph., 2.2. 68. T. Sim., 5.1, also cited by Popovic, Reading the Human Body, 288. 69. Lincicum, “Philo.” 70.  Teresa Shaw, The Burden of the Flesh:  Fasting and Sexuality in Early Christianity (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 1998), 138. 71.  Nicholas Marinides, “The Beautiful Bishop: Physiognomy and Holiness in the Life of St. Eutychius of Constantinople,” in The Concept of Beauty in Patristic and Byzantine Theology, ed. John Anthony McGuckin (New  York:  Theotokos Press, 2012), 210–26, 212 nt. 482. 72. Marinides, “Beautiful Bishop,” 212–13 nt. 483.

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interpreted as “an outward manifestation of his guileless goodness.”73 Clement of Alexandria cites Sirach 19:29–30 as support for his own physical description of what he deems effeminate men: “For from his look shall a man be known, says the Scripture, from meeting a man the man is known: the dress of a man, the step of his foot, the laugh of his teeth, tell tales of him.”74 Physiognomic consciousness, then, is an application of the principles of physiognomy, paired with a commonplace or shared understandings of what a given gesture, mannerism, physical aspect, or animal comparison convey regarding a person’s character, but it is not restricted by the mandates or even definitions found in the manuals. Moreover, ancient physiognomic thought did not seem to recognize distinct subcategories regarding where it was applied:  dress, gender, mannerisms, and so forth do not seem to have been considered discrete categories as they often are in modern thought. Rather, all aspects of things that pertained to the body were considered ripe for physiognomic assessment. Further, it is often employed without necessarily being identified as physiognomy by an author but nonetheless is predicated on physiognomic assumptions that can be identified. The application of it is not constrained by the definitions given in the manuals, though sometimes—but certainly not always—there is some degree of overlap between them and popular sentiment. As Barton notes, “… while it is clear that physiognomical thinking has very deep cultural roots . . . the discipline as we find it in the treatise is less culturally salient.”75 Popovic suggests that [p]erhaps readers who practiced physiognomics simply took from the catalogues what suited their purposes. But since much of physiognomic knowledge received its credibility against a background of shared social values about types of people, it is not necessary to assume that physiognomic treatises were used as tools of reference in actual practice. Because of the importance of social values for the credibility of the art, the texts may be regarded as attempts to codify such social presuppositions.76

One of the primary benefits in utilizing a broader nexus of popular sentiment of physiognomic consciousness (as I  will do throughout this work) rather than relying solely on the manuals themselves is that it avoids what David Lincicum has rightly described as a problematic wholesale transfer of specific meaning that might not apply in a context beyond the manuals. In addressing recent scholarship in Christian origins that has addressed physiognomic interest, Lincicum observes that

73. Ibid. 74. Paed. 3.3. 75. Barton, Power and Knowledge, 96. 76. Popovic, Reading the Human Body, 100.

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Reading Bodies [i]n general, suggestions of physiognomic influence range from plausible to difficult, floundering most often on a lack of explicit evidence and a certain “illegitimate totality transfer” from the physiognomic handbooks to particular traits in narrative portrayals. Given the fact that the physiognomic handbooks are over-saturated with interpretation, including more than a little disagreement among them, the tenuousness of such interpretations is often palpable.77

Similarly, David Rohrbacher also rightly cautions against relying too heavily on the handbooks themselves, noting that “intensive focus on these physiognomic treatises, however, carries with it the risk of overlooking the broader spectrum of ancient views on physiognomy.”78 Rorhrbacher’s work argues that previous scholarship on Suetonius’s use of physiognomy has been unsuccessful in that it has attributed to him a single and unified theory of physiognomics, rather than a more eclectic, and thus informal, method. Here he is quite right to note that the application and understanding of physiognomics is not as tidy and straightforward (with meaning derived primarily from the manuals) as previous scholarship has argued. Rather, it is a messy, and often rather contradictory, system of thought where a given physical attribute has differing valences of meaning depending on the context it is used in, as discussed throughout this work. Rohrbacher identifies the problems inherent within the manuals themselves as a sole guide for physiognomic interpretation: The physiognomic manuals, like many other scientific and technical works of antiquity, are rhetorical works designed to convince a potentially hostile audience. They present physiognomy as a comprehensive and unerring science, but closer examination reveals the tenuousness of these claims. The manuals often contradict each other on the proper interpretation of different physical features, and are sometimes even contradictory within themselves.79 The manuals are complex and contradictory not only by incompetence and the vagaries of their composition, but also by design. If physiognomy were a simple science, Polemo and other authors of treatises would be deprived of the opportunity for self-aggrandizement; if the manuals could make anyone a physiognomist, the power and prestige of the science would be considerably diminished.80

In discussing Cicero’s use of physiognomics in his speeches, Sassi notes that “the persuasive power of the argument is so much greater for being founded on the premises that do not require to be made explicit, insofar as they are entirely

77. Lincicum, “Philo,” 64. 78. David Rohrbacher, “Physiognomics in Imperial Latin Biography,” Classical Antiquity 29, no. 1 (2010): 92–116, 93. 79. Of course, this is also true in the broader physiognomic consciousness of antiquity, discussed below. 80. Rohrbacher, “Physiognomics,” 94.

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familiar and commonly accepted.”81 In other words, conventions that were culturally commonplace could fruitfully be drawn upon to evoke the desired image in an audience’s mind, and what a given aspect of physicality or animal comparison denoted regarding character did not need to be explicitly spelled out, much less be reliant on the manuals. Moreover, the role that the imagination played in cultivating the images evoked by the speaker or writer contributed to its persuasiveness. As Sassi remarks, “the secret of [physiognomy’s] seductiveness is perhaps its stubborn adherence to the senses and appeal to the imagination, but also, and above all, its skillfulness in conferring cohesion and persuasiveness on our collective patterns of thought and personal intuitions.”82 Audiences in antiquity visualized the action and description related in a narrative, and authors composed their works with this in mind.83 Physiognomic description would thus, at least in a sense, be made visible to its audience. And while not formal physiognomics proper, the broader informal understanding of the importance of “looking the part” of one’s social role (at times informed by ancient conceptions of what was considered beauty or ugliness) was also a widespread concern in antiquity. As Michael Koortbojian rightly observes, “[o]ne identified, indeed individuated oneself, by adopting the conspicuous appearance that was synonymous with a distinctive social role.”84 He notes that this individuation was, of course, rather ironically predicated on the collective convention.85 Despite the presence of physiognomic thought across these numerous and often quite distinct genres of work, the purpose of utilizing this method is strikingly similar in the majority of these texts: to help to persuade an audience to either support or disdain the individual being portrayed. In the realm of oratory and written rhetoric, where persuasive speech was of utmost importance, physiognomic principles were taught as a necessary aid to the speaker. I discuss these here briefly not because I presuppose that all early Christian authors would have had formal education or training in the art of rhetoric,86 but rather to take note of instances that clearly stipulate the use of physiognomic principles in order to persuade an audience. Interest in physiognomics was natural for an orator, an important part of his training, and “this part of the art was devoted to teaching the would be orator to use his physical presence to present his case most effectively; thus stress was

81. Sassi, The Science of Man, 80. 82. Sassi, The Science of Man, 81. 83. L. Stephanie Cobb, Dying to be Men: Gender and Language in Early Christian Martyr Texts (New York: Columbia University Press, 2008), 98–99. 84. Michael Koorbojian, “The Double Identity of the Roman Portrait Statues: Costumes and Their Symbolism at Rome,” in Roman Dress and the Fabrics of Roman Culture, ed. Jonathan Edmondson and Alison Keith (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2008), 73. 85. Ibid. 86. Although several of the authors I will examine in subsequent chapters did.

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laid on the ways in which the character of the speaker, his ethos, was revealed by his body.”87 Quintilian, for example, provides his readers with an extensive list of recommended and discouraged ways of comporting the body and voice in giving a speech: gaze, eyebrows, nostrils, the relative stiffness of the neck, hands, arms, and even lips are given detailed attention regarding what a specific movement would indicate about the speaker.88 Van Houdt notes the similar role that physiognomy and rhetoric played in society in that both maintained a focus on “the language of the body,” and that both functioned as an instrument of socialization, teaching young men how to comport themselves in order to make a favorable impression.89 In other words, it could function to persuade observers of an individual’s upright character and moral virtues. Van Houdt posits that the Memorabilia published by Valerius Maximus functioned as a sort of moral guideline from which orators, historians, and philosophers drew illustrative anecdotes, and that the physiognomic component of the work was an important one. He states that [i]t was made abundantly clear that virtue was not revealed by works and deeds alone; virtue also showed itself in an equally, perhaps even more, compelling manner, in and through the body . . . the striking similarity between rhetoric and physiognomics proves essential for a better understanding of the way physiognomical descriptions functioned as an instrument of social control among the elite.90

But the use of physiognomic principles for self-representation in order to bring an audience to side with the speaker or writer is but one side of the coin. Those being trained in the business of persuasion were also educated on how to employ physiognomics for the purposes of encomium and invective directed at other individuals. Karl Olav Sandnes discusses the role physiognomy played in ancient rhetoric. He notes that “[b]oth theory (handbooks) and practice (speeches or biographies) prove the significance physiognomics and rhetoric have for each other. The handbooks develop a terminology for the rhetorical significance of appearance (ekphrasis, eikonismos, charakterismos), and this is put into practice in speeches as well as biographies.”91 87. Barton, Power and Knowledge, 104. 88. Inst. 11.3.72–87 (Butler, LCL). 89. Van Houdt, “Speaking Eyes,” 640. 90. Van Houdt, “Speaking Eyes,” 638. 91.  Belly and Body in the Pauline Epistles (Cambridge:  Cambridge University Press, 2002), 26. There is a high degree of conceptual and applied overlap between physiognomy and practices such as askesis, ekphrasis, eikonismos, and even Stoic thought. While askesis and some Stoic thought share with physiognomy the (often unarticulated) aspect of self-fashioning, ekphrasis and eikonismos are used similarly to physiognomic thought in terms of praise or blame. Gilbert Dagron asserts that eikonismos was used in works of physiognomy (“Holy Images and Likeness,” Dumbarton Oaks Papers 45 [1991]:  23–33, 25), Hartsock notes that Theon utilizes Homer’s physiognomic description of Thersites

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As Barton observes regarding Polemo’s manual, although her statement is equally applicable to informal uses of physiognomy, “the methods of physiognomy reveal themselves in this chapter as developments of some traditional topoi . . . of praise and blame, which worked to persuade the audience to identify with the speaker against the categorized Other.”92 Indeed, clear application of physiognomic principles being employed for encomium and invective can be found in the recommendations of the anonymous first century B.C.E. Rhetorica ad Herennium that was erroneously attributed to Cicero in antiquity. The author advises, For praise, as follows: “He entered the combat in body like the strongest bull, in impetuosity like the fiercest lion.” For censure, so as to excite hatred, as follows: “that wretch who daily glides through the middle of the Forum like a crested serpent . . . [with a] poisonous glance and fierce panting . . . For contempt, as follows: “That creature, who like a snail silently hides and keeps himself in his shell, is carried off, he and his house, to be swallowed whole.”93

Thus, the practice of employing physiognomic principles rhetorically in order persuade an audience of either the strong or unsavory character of one’s subject is clearly expressed in ancient thought. An added motivation for employing this method is that using physiognomy was a means of boasting of one’s own wisdom and intellectual prowess, thus in turn an additional means of persuasion to convey to an audience that the practitioner and his arguments were intellectually sound. As Sassi suggests regarding the codification of physiognomic principles into the manuals themselves, “the prestige attached to sharp-sighted observation and intuitive acumen is certainly prominent throughout this process.”94 Moreover, skilled rhetoricians such as Cicero and Quintilian would certainly not undertake a method of persuasion that did not also underscore their own aptitudes for argumentation. Physiognomy, then, was not deemed a lesser form

as the primary example of an ekphrasis of a person (Sight and Blindness, 50 n.  76), and Marinides identifies physiognomy in ekphrasis or eikonismos (“Beautiful Bishop,” 221). The use of physiognomics in Stoic thought is correctly presupposed by Gleason, and Lincicium addresses this as well. He states that “we know, for example, that physiognomy played a role among the Stoics (e.g., Posidonius and Hierocles are both associated with physiognomic traditions) (“Philo,” 62–63). Ilara Rameli and David Konstan state that “physiognomy is, indeed, a science that long had a place in Stoic ethics” (Hierocles the Stoic:  Elements of Ethics, Fragments and Excerpts [Atlanta, Ga.:  SBL Press, 2009], 51). Discerning where physiognomy ends and Stoicism begins (or vice versa) is beyond the scope of the current work; it is sufficient to note that Stoic thought included physiognomic thought. Despite all of this conceptual overlap, I retain the term “physiognomy” for the sake of fluidity. 92.  Barton, Power and Knowledge, 99. As Barton further notes, Polemo is frequently explicit in his suggestions for the use of physiognomy for praise and blame (111). 93. Rhet. Her. 4.46.49 (Caplan, LCL). 94. Sassi, The Science of Man, 64.

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of argumentation in antiquity, the way modern argumentation predicated on ad hominem arguments are rightfully judged to be. Rather, it was a respected form of persuasion and one that in turn helped underscore the authority of the author utilizing these principles, adding additional motivation to employ it.

Review of Literature In recent years, more attention has begun to be paid to the body in early Christianity, attesting that the body did in fact matter in early Christianity in ways that had not been given much attention in previous scholarship. Peter Brown’s The Body and Society was perhaps one of the first works to usher in this new interest in the ways that the self-fashioning of early Christian bodies informed notions of selfhood and group boundaries.95 Since then, a host of other scholarly works have contributed to our understanding of the various ways in which the body had significance for early Christians.96 Yet, despite this recent interest in the important role that bodies played in early Christian thought and practice, to date there has been remarkably little interest in the role that physiognomics in particular played. This is somewhat surprising— and indeed wanting—in view of the widespread nature of the physiognomic consciousness in the ancient Mediterranean. Although this is perhaps not completely surprising, given that several early Christian authors will claim disinterest in the physical body and the prioritization of the soul, which no doubt has played a role in preventing scholars from noting their physiognomic tendencies, often in the self-same text. This tension between purported disparagement of the physical while almost simultaneously employing physiognomic principles predicated on the physical to reveal the subject’s character is discussed more in depth in subsequent chapters. Nonetheless the role of physiognomic thought in early Christian writings has not yet received the attention it deserves. Richard Foerster was, to the best of my knowledge, the first scholar to note instances of physiognomic thought in early Christian texts. In 1883, he published Scriptores physiognomonici Graeci et Latini, which included excerpts from some early Christian writers in its catalogue of ancient thought.97

95. Peter Brown, The Body and Society: Men, Women, and Sexual Renunciation in Early Christianity (Columbia, S.C.: Columbia University Press, 1988). 96.  See, for example, Dale B. Martin, The Corinthian Body (New Haven, Conn.:  Yale University Press, 1995); Colleen M. Conway, Behold the Man Jesus and Greco-Roman Masculinity (Oxford; New  York:  Oxford University Press, 2008); Glancy, Corporal Knowledge; Elaine Pagels, Celibacy, Christianity and Power:  Adam, Eve, and the Serpent (New York: Random House, 1988). 97. For example, Clement of Alexandria (Vol. II, 303–8), Tertullian (ibid., 331–32), and Lactantius (ibid., 332–33).

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Elizabeth Evans was one of the first scholars to address in any depth physiognomic principles at work in some early Christian texts. She briefly discusses the influence that physiognomy had on Clement of Alexandria,98 how Ambrose utilized physiognomy in analyzing the characters of fellow and potentially fellow clergy men,99 and, even more briefly, Gregory of Nazianzus who employed physiognomy in his hostile portrait of Julian the Apostate.100 Evans states from the outset that she has little interest in addressing early Christian materials, and thus she cannot be faulted for not treating these brief examples she references in greater depth, nor for not pursuing other instances of physiognomic usage in early Christian texts. Other classicists seem to have followed suit and for the most part opt not to include early Christian materials in their respective works on ancient physiognomy with the exception of Gleason on Clement and R. Asmus on Gregory. While Nicholas Marinides has examined the use of physiognomy in early Christian thought, his work addresses a later period than I am considering. Regarding other early Christian texts, the physical description of Paul in the Acts of Paul and Thecla has been one of the few early Christian texts to be the focus of physiognomic attention.101 Pertaining to the historical Paul and what we can discern from his letters, his appearance as construed by his opponents has also been addressed in view of physiognomic tropes by J. Albert Harrill.102 Harrill argues that physiognomic commonplaces are being utilized by Paul’s opponents in order to malign his masculinity, and by extension, his character and moral authority. The work not only persuasively accounts for the strategies of Paul’s opponents, but it also rightfully addresses the use of physiognomy as rhetorical and polemical strategy among early Christian communities and texts. While acknowledging the role that physiognomy played in formulating opinions about character and in turn in creating and maintaining group

98.  Evans, “Physiognomics in the Ancient World,” 79 n. 48; Gleason also discusses Clement (Making Men, 61, 64–65, 68–72). 99.  Discussed in Chapter 2; also discussed by Parsons, Body and Character, 59–61, and Harstock, Sight and Blindness, 135–43. 100. Evans, “Physiognomics in the Ancient World,” 77–78; also discussed by R. Asmus, “Vergessene Physiognomonika,” Philologus 65 (1906):  410–15. Teresa Shaw has also very briefly examined this physiognomic description of Julian: “Wolves in Sheep’s Clothing: The Appearance of True and False Piety,” StPatr 29 (1997): 127–32. 101. For a review of this literature, and a response to it, see Callie Callon, “The Unibrow That Never Was: Paul’s Appearance in the Acts of Paul and Thecla,” in Dressing Jews and Christians in Antiquity, eds. Alicia Batten, Carly Daniel-Hughes, and Kristi Upson-Saia (Surrey : Ashgate Press), 99–116. 102.  J. Albert Harrill, “Invective Against Paul (2 Cor 10:10), the Physiognomics of the Ancient Slave Body, and the Greco-Roman Rhetoric of Manhood,” in Antiquity and Humanity:  Essays on Ancient Religion and Philosophy Presented to Hans Dieter Betz on His 70th Birthday, ed. Adela Yarbro Collins and Margaret M. Mitchell (Tubingen:  Mohr Siebeck, 2001), 189–213. See also Sandnes, cited above.

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boundaries, Mikeal C. Parsons argues that it was precisely this that the author of Luke-Acts sought to undermine in several characters he depicts.103 Parsons’s work posits explanations of how these characters’ physical descriptions would have translated into negative assessments of their respective characters by an ancient audience and thus provides a broader context for these physical portrayals. For example, he notes that in the ancient physiognomic consciousness a person of Ethiopian origin and a eunuch to boot (Acts 8)  would have been subject to all three physiognomic methods and his character found decidedly wanting, yet he is nonetheless baptized into the community. Parsons asserts that this episode is “the culmination of Luke’s argument that those who are physically ‘defective’ by the prevailing cultural standards are in no way excluded from the body of the new Abrahamic community.”104 Similarly, Parsons also explicates how the lame man who is healed in Acts 3 would have been understood as morally problematic: weak ankles and feet were considered indicative of weak character. He posits that by extension, the healing of his body would have suggested to an ancient audience the healing of his character. Parsons maintains, however, that by portraying these figures as being accepted into the early Jesus movement and early Christianity, Luke is subverting the traditional understanding (and indeed a polemical application) of physiognomy. While Parsons’s work is to a great extent persuasive in suggesting that Luke did seek to undermine the conventional use of physiognomy, it does not follow that other early Christian writers and their respective communities shared this view or aim, as will be argued in subsequent chapters. Parsons’s student, Chad Hartsock, also addresses issues of physiognomy in early Christian texts, in particular what descriptions such as “blind” or “visually impaired” might have conveyed about the character of a person being portrayed as such. He argues that Luke makes use of these conventional assumptions in a rather programmatic manner, and as such references to eyes, sight, and blindness are an interpretive key that has gone unnoticed in modern scholarship. Hartsock’s work provides the reader with a well-researched database of physiognomic assumptions pertaining to eyes, sight, and blindness. Building off of the insights from Parsons and Hartsock, Alexandra GrucaMacaulay argued that Luke was inverting physiognomic assumptions in his characterization of the figure of Lydia in Acts.105 She argues that Luke evoked common physiognomic tropes pertaining to Lydians only to in turn overthrow them. The Martyrdom of Polycarp has received interpretation through a physiognomic lens,106 yet such an approach has not been applied to other martyrdom accounts, 103. Parsons, Body and Character. 104. Parsons, Body and Character, 123. 105.  Alexandra Gruca-Macaulay, Lydia as a Rhetorical Construct in Acts (Atlanta, GA: Society of Biblical Literature, 2016). 106.  See Karl Olav Sandnes, Early Christian Discourses on Jesus’ Prayer at Gethsemane:  Courageous, Committed, Cowardly? (Leiden; Boston:  Brill, 2016), 55–59; Matthiji den Dulk and Andrew Langford, “Polycarp and Polemo:  Christianity at the

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although the role that depictions of gender—which of course overlaps with physiognomy—has. Doing so, as I  pursue in Chapter  3, not only supplements further scholarship but also potentially provides new insights. Stephen D. Moore is one of the few contemporary scholars to discuss in any depth the purported “ugliness” of Jesus in early Christian authors, predicated on the suffering servant imagery in Isaiah.107 Although Moore does offer plausible reasons for the rhetorical function of these (rather curious) assertions by early Christian authors, ultimately I think more can be said on the subject to elucidate additional rhetorical strategies that are potentially at work for the respective ancient authors. Given this rather short review of literature on the subject, there is demonstrably a need for further research into how physiognomy and physiognomic principles were utilized in early Christian texts. Moreover, with the exception of Harrill’s work, no scholar of early Christianity has paid attention to the role of physiognomics as a rhetorical tool of persuasion used by early Christian authors. The following will contribute new information regarding the ways in which physiognomy was part of the arsenal of early Christian rhetoric.

Some Preliminary Caveats Despite the widespread nature of the physiognomic consciousness in antiquity as discussed above, admittedly not everyone accepted the validity of the practice and subsequently do not seem to have engaged in it. Sassi notes that there was a “persistent ‘anti-physiognomist’ tradition” that took its influence from the Platonic and Socratic theme of inner beauty and gained further strength via philosophical ideas on the rational control of the passions wherein physical features lose their relevance.108 Evans notes that the dream interpreter Artemidorus also dismissed the efficaciousness of physiognomy, though she notes that at least part of this reason was that he viewed the practice as competition to his own skill.109 Marinides Centre of the Second Sophistic,” in The History of Religions School Today:  Essays on the New Testament and Related Ancient Mediterranean Texts, ed. Thomas R. Blanton IV, Robert Matthew Calhoun, and Clare K Rothschild (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2014), 211–40. 107. Stephen D. Moore, God’s Beauty Parlor: And Other Queer Spaces in and around the Bible (Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 2001). 108.  Sassi, The Science of Man, 81. Boys-Stones also discusses a disregard for physiognomy in the Socratic and Platonic tradition, one based on the idea that one’s character could be made either better or worse (via the study of philosophy of course, along with other practices) and thus was not fixed, hence invariable physical aspects could not accurately reveal an individual’s character. The famous story of Socrates’ encounter with the physiognomist Zopyrus illustrates this idea well. Cicero makes reference to this in Tusc. 4, 37, 80 and Off. 1, 36. 109.  Elizabeth C.  Evans, “The Study of Physiognomy in the Second Century A.D,” Transactions and Proceedings of the American Philological Association 72 (1941): 105.

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discusses the description of Socrates in the Symposium—where he is ugly on the outside but inside filled with wise beautiful thoughts—as a “classic instance of this objection [to physiognomy].”110 Some early Christian authors also did not subscribe to the principles and practices of physiognomy, and Hippolytus of Rome is quite outspoken in his disdain for it, although his focus is on the perceived predictive abilities of the astrological form of it, maintaining that only early Christians had access to true prophecy.111 However, further complicating the picture are authors who use physiognomy either selectively or subversively. Of the first category, there are some ancient writers who will employ physiognomic tropes when its suits them and refrain from using them—or even seemingly denounce physiognomy’s efficacy or legitimacy— when it doesn’t. Although this is perhaps to be somewhat expected, given that when it was utilized as rhetorical strategy there are naturally instances when it, like other types of rhetoric, would suit one situation well but less so in another. In any case, discerning why these authors employed it selectively is beyond the scope of the present work—it will suffice to note that this did occur, and to in turn note that I  am cognizant that physiognomy was a very eclectic practice. Clement of Alexandria is one author who Gleason rightly argues operated with a physiognomic consciousness (and who I will discuss in further chapters on this premise), yet voices sentiment that would seem to undermine or contradict this. In the same work that instructs persons that they should be able to identify potential Christians by characteristics that include their looks and voice, he also remarks that “the Athenian stranger alludes to the wise man’s beauty in these words; “if anyone insists that just men, even if they are physically ugly, are wholly beautiful in regard to the justice of their character, practically speaking, no one who speaks in those terms would be thought to be speaking out of turn.”112 Yet elsewhere, he remarks of men he deems inferior that “we ought not to call such as these men, but lewd wretches, and effeminate creatures who are manifestly shown to be what they are from their external appearance, their clothes, shoes, form, walk, cut of their hair, look.”113

110.  Marinides, “Beautiful Bishop,” 212. For a brief discussion of other Greco-Roman detractors, see Parsons, Body and Character, 34–36. I disagree with Parsons that Plutarch and Seneca do not subscribe to physiognomic thought, as the passages I cite below are quite in keeping with a physiognomic mindset. 111.  Haer., 4.14–27. Clement of Alexander (Strom., 1.21.135; also noted by Lincicum, “Philo,” 65) similarly takes issue with the astrological form of physiognomy, asserting that only Christians have access to authentic prophecy, yet he makes use of bodily physiognomic thought for evaluating character elsewhere. 112. Strom. 2.122.7. Of course, here he is referring to Socrates, who as noted above was the rather infamous exception to physiognomic thought. 113. Paed. 3.3.

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Plutarch’s rather complicated use of physiognomy has received some discussion. W.  Jeffery Tatum (following Aristoula Georgiadou)114 observes that Plutarch is often eclectic in his use of physical description, noting that while he more often than not includes one in his portrayals of a person, 40  percent of the time an appearance will go unmentioned.115 Muddying the waters even further, however, is that as Tatum illustrates Plutarch will on some occasions employ a physiognomic description that contrasts with the person’s character, thus undermining the legitimacy of the perceived connection between appearance and character. He maintains that “Plutarch’s literary exploitation of physical descriptions, whether as set-pieces or implicated throughout the narrative, reflects his conviction that externals are pale traces of inner reality.”116 He cedes, however, the presence of the more lax physiognomic consciousness in Plutarch, noting that “[f]ew Greek or Roman authors emerge as strict physiognomists, but the proposition that a physiognomic consciousness pervaded Greco-Roman literature seems difficult to refute.”117 Indeed, as Hartsock suggests, “while many of the physical descriptions are employed by Plutarch only to be subverted, it is certainly not the case with all.”118 He rightly notes that in Plutarch’s descriptions of the physical appearances of Romulus, Remus, and Alexander, he does conform to physiognomic conventions, describing each of these as having impressive physiques.119 Lucian of Samosata has a similar complex approach to physiognomic thought. In some instances, such as his use of typical physical depictions of slaves, he seems to use physiognomic thought in a straightforward manner.120 However, there are other instances when he also seems to discredit the legitimacy of the practice, and indeed, there are occasions when he seems to outright falsify it.121 While to us this contradictory practice is logically unsound, the rather messy and hodgepodge method of the physiognomic consciousness seems to have allowed these authors to pick and choose their approach with seeming impunity. Related to this is the selectivity among authors who did subscribe to a (nonsubversive or contradictory) physiognomic consciousness. Not only could

114. A. Georgiadou, “Idealistic and realistic portraiture in the Lives of Plutarch,” ANRW ii, no. 33.6 (1992): 4616–23. 115. Tatum, “The Regal Image in Plutarch’s Lives,” 135–51. 116. Ibid., 151. 117. Ibid., 136. 118. Hartsock, Sight and Blindness, 45. 119. Ibid., 45–46. 120. As identified by Harrill, “Physiognomics,” 207. 121.  To cite but one example, in discussion of how money dealers are able to discern a good coin from one of degenerative value, he queries, “Why should it not be an art to distinguish bad men from good, especially since men like coins cannot be known at first sight? For, as the sagacious Euripides has very well said ‘How we may bad men know, no marks of body show’ ” (Lucian of Samosata, The Parasite, vol. 3 of Leob Classical Library, trans. A. M. Harmon, 146. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1921.).

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authors pick and choose regarding the validity of physiognomic thought, so too does it seem that they could be rather selective in terms of content or meaning and application—not only as regards the physical appearance of the same individual depicted by different authors for their own rhetorical purposes but also in terms of what a given physical attribute or means of bodily comportment could mean. An example that includes both of these are the descriptions of Julian by Gregory of Nazinazus and Ammanianus Marcellinus, respectively. Gregory gives a wholly negative physiognomic reading of him.122 As Shaw notes, in contrast, Ammanianus describes his physique in the “best possible terms: having a shaggy beard123 and thick neck, but flaming eyes and straight nose.”124 In this instance, not only are the physical details noted of the same person different in each author, but even when the authors focus on the same specific physical attributes (such as eyes and neck) they are given very different assessments. There were shifts in interpretation in physiognomic thought, and an author could capitalize on a given physical trait as either positive or negative as it suited his rhetorical purpose, so long as there was at least some cultural understanding or precedence that he could appeal to. An unimpeachable and universally agreed upon interpretation of a given physicality does not seem to have ever been reached in physiognomic consciousness, allowing practitioners to pick and choose a given understanding or implication to convey to their audience as the situation warranted. A further complication for ancient physiognomists’ claims to access to objective truth via decoding the signs of the body is the decided tension—if not to say implicit conflict—between what we might call “nature versus nurture” frequently present in physiognomic thought and undertaking. On the one hand, practitioners held that physiognomy reveals a “true” innate character that ultimately the subject could not conceal, but on the other hand, instructions on how to comport the body in order to present one’s self in the best moral light are espoused by these same authors. These instructions attest to the idea that the body can be manipulated to achieve desired physiognomic results. That is, that a seemingly “natural” and revelatory method of discerning a person’s character despite their potential attempts to conceal is also something that can nonetheless be learned or adapted as part of self-representation. Indeed, this seems to be potentially one of the reasons why at least some detractors found fault with it. Hartsock notes Plato’s rejection of physiognomy and states that “the apparent charge from some would be that physiognomics could be manipulated in order

122. Discussed in depth in Chapter 2. 123. Despite this not being well received by Julian’s other contemporaries, evidenced in the Mispogon. 124.  Shaw, “Wolves,” 129 nt. 13. Shaw also notes that there seems to be some historical evidence for Julian having a somewhat unusual appearance, noting that “pagan authors also acknowledge that Julian’s appearance was unusual and worthy of comment” and that Ammianus claimed the mocking designation of “chattering mole” applied to him by Constantius’s associates was motivated by envy (ibid.).

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to arrive at a desired conclusion.”125 Indeed, much of Maud Gleason’s work examines physiognomic exhortations regarding self-presentation, attesting that self-fashioning was a component of physiognomic thought.126 Here, Cicero is once again an excellent example. As noted, he employed physiognomic principles to illustrate the nefarious character of his opponent. However, as discussed below, in his advice to his son, he gives advice on gait so as to look the part of the dignified elite Roman male. Timothy O’Sullivan also notes this tension as it pertains to gait and masculinity, remarking that if using art to control the body has an air of femininity about it, then any attempt by a man to manipulate his gait courts the charge of effeminacy; recall Manilus’ claim that “feigned” gaits (ficti . . . gressus) please effeminate males (Astron. 5.153). Yet the very notion that a man’s walk “should” be one way or another implies that it is something that can be acquired, practiced, and nurtured . . . The paradox of gait instruction is especially threatening to the ideology of “naturally” masculine behavior.127

O’Sullivan further asserts that “the recognition that the apparently ‘natural’ synthesis of bodily deportment and social identity actually has a learned component raises some obvious questions. If the gait is an ‘essential’ and ‘natural’ trait of both individual and social identity, how can it be a learnable behavior at the same time?”128 To resolve this tension, O’Sullivan posits the idea that “nature” (the aristocratic identity that an elite male was born with, and thus inherent knowledge of the proper manly gait) was thought to be potentially undermined by “nature”— being reared by slaves who were by nature servile. He cites Plutarch’s advice that the slaves who oversee the children from birth should be well spoken in Greek and have excellent habits.129 This is perhaps partly what is at play in the underlying logic of this seeming contradiction, but solving this puzzle decisively is beyond the current scope of the work.130 Despite this inherent tension, and perhaps partially alleviating it, there is evidence that some held that going to excessive lengths or deliberate attempts to mislead by physical comportment was ultimately, at least most of the time, doomed to failure. The anonymous Latin manual weighs in on precisely this problem. The author remarks that “the investigation of humans is rendered

125. Hartsock, Sight and Blindness, 32. 126. Gleason, Making Men. 127.  Timothy M. O’Sullivan, Walking in Roman Culture (Cambridge; New York: Cambridge University Press, 2011), 28. 128. Ibid., 30. 129. Ibid. 130. See also James Fredal, who also notes this tension, albeit as applicable to Athenian orators (Rhetorical Action in Ancient Athens [Carbondale:  Southern Illinois University Press, 2006], 179–81).

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difficult by the fact that each man strives to conceal his proper faults” but notes that this is not a hopeless dead end for “the attentive practitioner will detect even the man who is taking precautions [to conceal a poor character trait].”131 Gleason summarizes, “[P]hysiognomists therefore must always be alert to deception. Signs that one’s subject is overcompensating are a dead giveaway.”132 The anonymous Latin manual also states that “[kinaidoi] . . . long to hide their defect and because of this are readily detected by experienced observers.”133 Polemo distinguished bodily movements that are natural and unaffected from those that involve some form of pretense, identifying three levels on which deception purportedly operates.134 Indeed, as Corbeill discusses, it is just this sort of physiognomic deception that Cicero accuses Piso of, with his otherwise unimpeachable physique and bodily comportment.135 As such, it seems as though in the ancient physiognomic mindset that some might be fooled by these physically enacted pretenses, but one who is an intelligent and skilled observer will not be deceived and instead is able to discover exactly what the subject attempts to keep hidden. As Gleason observes,136 [P]erhaps the taught suspension required of the ideal man’s physical carriage is emblematic of the constant strain involved in maintaining a truly masculine profile in the face of such exacting standards, where an appropriate level of masculine tension in gaze, walk, and gesture must be cultivated by continuous exertion but must never be allowed to appear put on. The failures, which made the effort behind the act appear too obvious, were stigmatized as the clumsy efforts of overcompensating imposters—perhaps because they threatened to reveal the deportment of masculinity for the construct of conventions that it really was.137

Similarly, on the subject of walking, O’Sullivan remarks that “[f]or Roman elites gait was one of the many bodily characteristics that justified their position in the world; there was accordingly great social pressure to talk about the styles of walking as if they were natural, innate, and directly reflective of identity and

131. Anon. Lat. 11, also cited by Gleason, Making Men, 76–77. 132. Gleason, Making Men, 77. 133. Anon. Lat. 39; also cited by Gleason, Making Men, 78. 134. Gleason discusses the three levels on which attempts at physical deception operate for Polemo, including those who seek to further their social and political ambitions, to integrate themselves with others by using the charm of their physical appearance, and those who are secretly kinaidoi but seek to mask this (Making Men, 78–80). 135.  Controlling Laughter:  Political Humor in the Late Roman Republic (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1996), 169–73. 136. Although here she is speaking of attempts to conceal effeminate character, I suggest that her remarks are applicable to all attempts to conceal via comportment. 137. Gleason, Making Men, 80.

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character. As a result of this social importance, however, considerable effort was spent on training young men to ‘walk the right way’, which suggests an awareness that this seemingly ‘natural’ trait was actually an acquired one.”138 Jennifer Glancy, on Cicero’s instructions regarding gait, notes that “for Cicero, proper gait is simultaneously natural and a matter to which a young man should give deliberate attention. He admits no contradiction between nature and cultivation.”139 Thus, perhaps the instructions to elite males regarding proper bodily comportment are best understood as a cultivation of the character that was already present for elite male authors. That is, a means of amplifying or perhaps refining their already superior physiognomy and character, rather than an attempt at concealing an inferior one as they accuse their opponents of undertaking. Another potential resolution to this is that at least some physiognomic practioners held that there could be some development (either positively or negatively) in a person’s character that was reflected in changes in the body—not only that body and soul acted upon each other, but they did so over extended periods of time, allowing for changes in both. Ps.-Aristotle relates that “it seems to me that soul and body react on each other; when the character of the soul changes, it changes also the form of the body, and conversely, when the form of the body changes, it changes the character of the soul.”140 This idea perhaps also underlies some instances of ascetic practice, or even Stoic thought where control of the body was thought to reflect control of the passions or desires. I will maintain that it plays a significant role in physiognomic thought in some martyrdom accounts. On this view, such mandates or instructions about how one comports one’s self is thus a form of cultivating one’s character and as such does not contain the problematic contradiction discussed above. In sum, in antiquity, there was a very wide and complex (and sometimes even contradictory) range of physiognomic thought and practice—it was very frequently employed but not always in the same way or for the same purposes. Likely, this is to be the expected result, given that it was largely predicated on social constructs and thus rather fluid ideals about representations of the body, despite its claims to objective truth via empirical observation and universal applicability. So, too, might the informal way in which it was most frequently used have added to its complexity. Perhaps these reasons can potentially explain why some of the logical inconsistencies or contradictions were not always deemed (or exposed in order) to delegitimize its efficacy by its practioners. All of these caveats being said, these ancient detractors and subjective (or even subversive) users of physiognomy seem to have been more the exception to the rule, rather than a majority position. Given that the following takes its focus as the use of physiognomy in writings intended to persuade, it is a reasonable assumption that the given author employing this method himself believes it to be

138. O’Sullivan, Walking in Roman Culture, 13. 139. Glancy, Corporal Knowledge, 13. 140. Ps.-Aristotle, Physiogn., 808b.

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a persuasive means of articulating his point and further believes that his audience will find the use persuasive. The following will not pursue the astrological form of physiognomy, given that this was rarely used in a context of persuasion but more of a means of divining the future. Moreover, with a few exceptions such as Hippolytus, this form of physiognomy rarely appears in the early Christian sources I  will be consulting. Similarly, the zoological and ethnographical methods do not appear with great frequency in my sources, and so consequently these forms will not be addressed at great length. In attempting to explicate the underlying assumptions of what a given gesture, physical trait, or aspect of bodily comportment indicated about the person(s) being described, the following will not rely solely on the manuals given that, as noted above, practitioners of physiognomy in an informal sense seem to have drawn from them only as suited their purposes, or perhaps not at all. Rather, I will seek to find similar uses of a given description in the broader physiognomic consciousness, given that this was the more commonplace application of physiognomy, and often times the manuals seem to offer a unique (i.e., otherwise unattested) understanding of a given trait that does not seem to have carried much cultural weight in common practice. However, when they do align with what is multiply attested elsewhere, I will include them. I do not attempt to be exhaustive in the early Christian authors I address, but rather I have chosen a few instances of the employment of physiognomic thought that are particularly noteworthy and which will hopefully open up other areas and authors for further inquiry. Similarly, I do not examine physical descriptions that have already been extremely well addressed under the rubrics of askesis or ekphrasis,141 and these are for the large part found among more “extreme” ascetic Christians such as the desert fathers who removed themselves from broader society.142 I  also do not examine these for the additional reason that these are perhaps the earliest instances of a thoroughly distinct “Christian physiognomy.” Georgia Frank suggests that “monastics developed their own physiognomic enterprise.”143 As Miller argues, “emaciated bodies, postulated feet and torsos, bodies seared by red-hot irons” were interpreted by desert pilgrims positively, and these features are at odds with contemporaneous conventional ideas of a positive physical appearance.144 Frank notes that manuals were not employed by pilgrims as

141.  See, to cite but a few examples, Shaw, Burden of the Flesh; Patricia Cox Miller, “Desert Asceticism and ‘The Body from Nowhere,’ ” JECS 2 (1994): 137–53; Georgia Frank utilizes physiognomy as her interpretive lens in addressing ascetics in Chapter  5 of The Memory of the Eyes: Pilgrims to Living Saints in Christian Late Antiquity (Berkley: University of California Press, 2000). 142. The exception is that I do address Basil, which is justifiable given that he expanded the monastic community by integrating monks and nuns into the broader community. 143. Frank, Memory, 137. 144. Miller, “Desert Asceticism,” 139.

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for them “the ascetic’s face far surpassed the average human face and so could not be reduced to the classifications or meanings suggested in the manuals,”145 further attesting to the perceived “uniquely Christian” physiognomy that developed pertaining to extreme ascetics. While the following will address early Christian authors who did subscribe to ascetic practices such as fasting and seeming disregard for pleasures of the body, I view these authors as “ascetics light”—they still evince concern for aligning with (if not surpassing in terms of the degree of their positive character or morality) the more conventional physiognomic conventions employed by non-Christians. My focus is how other early Christians participated in the broader Greco-Roman physiognomic conventions as products of their time. A potential parallel to this can be found in Epictetus’s presentation of Diogenes’s healthful appearance, where he takes pains to show that a simple life of control did not need to go to extremes. Shaw suggests that “Epictetus clearly wants to separate himself, his students, and the reputation of Diogenes from ascetic practices that valued bodily neglect to the point of repulsive appearance and poor health.”146 In other words, the authors I pursue will have a similar perspective on ascetic practices, but only to a point where they do not go completely beyond the more popular conventions of what is attractive or respectable in terms of physical appearance. Jerome, for example, seems to take this position. On the one hand, he encourages fasting and the like, but on the other he attempts to refute traditions that held that Paul of Thebes had an extreme ascetic appearance:  “a man living in an underground cave with flowing hair down to his feet.”147 He will allow for a more moderate manifestation of his less than physical robustness in relation to (at least in part) ascetic practice, portraying him as referring to himself as a man whose “limbs [are] decayed in age, his gray hairs unkempt.”148 In other words, a certain amount of physical manifestation that attests that the Christian is more preoccupied with theological matters than worldly ones but not to go too far beyond the more typical physiognomic constructs. I concede from the outset that much of what follows cannot be concretely concluded but instead offers a plausible understanding of underlying common assumptions employed in discourses of persuasion. We cannot know for certain that a given connection between a description and inferred character trait was present in the minds of the author, but we can posit a plausible explication that makes the most sense given the context—both of the ancient physiognomic consciousness as well as the author’s understanding of the individual he is portraying. The following conceptualizes early Christian as from the first to fourth century, and given that this was also the period that physiognomic principles were commonplace (though admittedly there does seem to be a slight dwindling of

145. Frank, “Memory of the Eyes,” 136. 146. Shaw, Burden of the Flesh, 40 nt. 44. 147.  W. H. Fremantle, “The Life of Paulus the First Hermit,” in Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, 2nd ed., vol. 6 (New York, 1893), 299–303; cited by Shaw, Burden of the Flesh, 140. 148. Fremantle, “Life of Paulus,” 10.

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interest in the third century) it is reasonable to examine material that encompasses this admittedly rather broad time frame.

What the Following Aims to Contribute to Early Christian Scholarship The following chapters will examine how physiognomic principles informed the writings of early Christian authors, particularly in instances where it was used as a form of persuasion. Recontextualizing aspects of these texts that have not received attention via this important interpretive lens enables us to understand more concretely what cultural assumptions were at play and to further appreciate the intended meaning behind what these authors were saying. In turn, to understand that many early Christians were little different from their nonChristian counterparts in placing great significance on the importance of the body as indicative of character as well as a means of cultural communication. The following chapter, “The Physiognomy of the Heretic,” will investigate the persuasive power of physiognomy in relation to early Christian negotiations of insider–outsider boundaries (though unfortunately for the most part only one side of that debate is still extent). That is, the rhetorical attempts of heresiologists to discredit so-called heretics and apostates. While different aspects of this discourse have been addressed, what has thus far been lacking in these studies is the rhetorical traction the heresiologists were afforded in utilizing physiognomic assumptions to undermine the moral credibility of their opponents. The third chapter addresses the other side to the rhetorical coin. “The Physiognomy of the [Ideal] Christian” addresses the use of physiognomic principles in the negotiation of positive group boundaries. Here I argue that the significance placed on bodily comportment (including walking, laughter, and other seemingly innocuous physical undertakings) by the early Christian authors I address is better understood if read through a physiognomic lens. I  suggest that the importance placed on proper mannerisms and gestures functioned for the writers as not only a form of social control but also as a means to persuade pagan149 observers via “body language” of the moral virtues and even superiority of this group. The fourth chapter addresses a similar rhetorical aim but focuses on early Martyrdom accounts, where some divergences from the ideal behavior as identified previously were not only permissible but also encouraged in these extenuating circumstances, specifically with regards to female performance of gender roles.

149. I use the term “pagan” here and throughout this work for the sake of fluidity—the problems inherent with the term are well known, in particular that the term was never used to self-identify but was instead applied by “outsiders” to those who adhered to the practices of the traditional Greco-Roman cults. For a brief discussion on why this problematic term is nonetheless perhaps the least objectionable, see Christopher P. Jones, Between Pagan and Christian (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 2014), 6.

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This chapter also examines the agonistic contest between torturer and tortured and how the victors and losers were described physiognomically. The final chapter addresses the tension of a savior who, tradition held, did not look the part expected of a divine or divinely favored individual—the “ugly” Jesus in the Suffering Servant imagery. I contrast this rather curious acceptance of an uncomely savior with the more expected attempts to beautify the figure of Moses in Philo and Josephus. I argue that while some early Christian authors do evidence a degree of tension in adopting this perspective without qualifications, authors who did subscribe or promote this image of an unattractive Jesus did so in order to achieve their own respective broader rhetorical goals: to dissuade church members from indulgences such as physical adornment, to distance Jesus from docetic claims that he only suffered in appearance and help explain how he could have been crucified in the first place, and, potentially, to demarcate Jesus from Antinous, the deified paramour of the Emperor Trajan. The work as a collective seeks to elucidate how early Christians engaged with physiognomic consciousness as a rhetorical strategy, and how in so doing they were able to simultaneously conform with rhetorical norms of the broader empire, but also, on occasion, subvert some of these cultural values.

Chapter 2 T H E P H YSIO G N OM Y O F A H E R E T IC :   P H YSIO G N OM IC P O L E M IC A S A C OM P O N E N T O F P E R SUA SIO N I N D E M A R C AT I N G “ I N SI D E R S” A N D “ O U T SI D E R S”

The utilization of physiognomies as a component of persuasion to malign an opponent was, as the previous chapter has shown, a cultural commonplace. Two reasons as to why it was deemed such an efficacious strategy of persuasion can be tentatively suggested. The first is that given that physiognomy was thought to be a system of analysis that required keen observation and interpretive skills, it carried with it implications for the expertise and intelligence of the practioner. It served the dual purpose of simultaneously denigrating one’s opponent while demonstrating the speaker or author’s own literary and rhetorical abilities, intelligence, and skills in discerning “truths” about a subject’s character that he might otherwise attempt to conceal.1 As noted in the first chapter, Maria Sassi discusses the intellectual prowess associated with physiognomic practice, noting that “it is no coincidence that the founding of the discipline is attributed to the ancient sage Pythagoras.”2 Moreover, in speakers or writers who had received a formal rhetorical education— of which physiognomy was a component of, albeit on how to comport their own bodies for maximum persuasive effect on their audience3—physiognomy provided the individual with a means of demonstrating this mastery of rhetorical invective. The second potential advantage to utilizing physiognomic polemic as a component of persuasion is that, despite being a highly subjective enterprise, authors seemingly were able to capitalize on something of culturally ascribed consensus of meaning to a given physical trait that could be used as an objective truth that could be appealed to. Physiognomy could not only “stand alone” as a way of maligning a person’s character, but it could also play a strong supporting 1.  In what follows I  have chosen to not utilize gender-inclusive language given the primarily male-orientated nature of ancient physiognomy. I will do so in instances where women are clearly stipulated as subjects. 2. Maria Michela Sassi, The Science of Man in Ancient Greece (Chicago, Ill.: University of Chicago Press, 2001), 64. 3.  Tamsyn S. Barton, Power and Knowledge:  Astrology, Physiognomics, and Medicine under the Roman Empire. The Body in Theory:  Histories of Cultural Materialism (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1995), 103–4.

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role as a sort of empirical validation of an author or speaker’s assertions. Ancient physiognomic thought held that body attested to and “proved” a subject’s character deficiencies in ways that he was often unable to conceal. It thus functioned as a form of appeal that allowed the practitioner to utilize these cultural constructs as a perceived empirical proof that could not be readily falsified, lending further persuasiveness to (or sometimes functioning as) his argument. However, it should be kept in mind that physiognomy was ultimately something of a subjective enterprise in that a given physical trait could convey a polyvalence of potential interpretations despite these implicit claims of objective truth. To note but one example that will be addressed further below, ruddy cheeks could be interpreted negatively to suggest anger or intemperance, or positively to indicate a healthful vigor that in turn implied positive character traits. In evaluating these types of situations, I side with the sentiment that is more widely attested and seems to be more in keeping with the rhetorical intentions of a given author as either positive or negative evaluations. Related to this is the seeming discrepancy found in early Christian sources in contrast to broader physiognomic sentiments:  the evaluation of a less than physically robust body, often understood as a positive indication of ascetic selfcontrol. While early Christian sources for the most part adhere to the broader cultural consensus in ascribing positive or negative traits to an aspect of physicality, in this instance they do seem to differ to some extent from their more mainstream contemporaries, prizing a body that reflects a lifestyle of abstinence from physical indulgences rather than a more robust one.4 This does, however, find a counterpart in some strands of ancient philosophical thought, where a somewhat neglected or undernourished physical body was thought to demonstrate a commitment to the life of the mind at the expense of the body. It is perhaps not surprising that early Christians might have subscribed to this perspective. From the second century on, early Christianity tended to view—or at the very least attempted to portray—itself not only as a branch or school of philosophy but also the only “true” philosophy. Mark Bradley notes that in the late Republic and early Imperial Rome, portraiture of key Greek and Hellenistic philosophers was common both in public and private settings and became almost prototypes of how those committed to intellectual pursuits were expected to look. He suggests that these archetypal figures quickly acquired an almost mythical status, and what they actually looked like in life was of rather less importance than the appearance to which collectors, viewers and followers expected them to conform. It is unsurprising that the prevailing representation of these figures imagined them as old, emaciated men with sunken cheeks, wrinkled brows, piercing eyes and (in full-length portraits) skeletal torsos: they were typically so preoccupied with

4.  Again, I  leave aside the more extreme ascetics and their corresponding extreme ascetic bodies.

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the world of the mind that a well-fed, well-exercised and well-attended body would be something of an anathema.5

Julian the apostate provides further evidence that this sort of diminished physical appearance could be conceptually linked to the philosopher figure in antiquity and among Christians in particular. In his letter to Photinus, he lambasts the Christian theology and philosophy espoused by “Diodorus, a charlatan priest of the Nazarene” before claiming that the latter’s current state of ill health is the result of divine punishment from the traditional Greco-Roman gods. According to Julian, [F]or many years past, [Diodorus] has been in danger, having contracted a wasting disease of the chest, and he now suffers extreme torture. His whole body has wasted away [omne eius corpus consumptum est]. For his cheeks have fallen in and his body is deeply lined with wrinkles. But this is no sign of philosophic habits, as he wishes it to seem to those who are deceived by him, but most certainly a sign of justice done and of punishment from the gods which has stricken him down in suitable proportion to his crime, since he must live out to the very end his painful and bitter life, his appearance that of a man pale and wasted [et faciem pallore confectam].6

In view of the potential positive evaluation of a neglected and diminished body, it might seem as though those of this philosophical mindset would in turn reject physiognomic thought. However, the opposite often turns out to be the case, resulting in something of an anomaly: proclamations about the relative unimportance of the body were made simultaneously with the body itself (in an undernourished or neglected form) being used as evidence of the subject’s commitment to this ideal. That is, while the body was denigrated as relatively unimportant, it was nonetheless a fundamental means of demonstrating the subject’s commitment to a philosophical and self-restrained lifestyle. Many early Christians were also participants in this seeming contradiction, albeit with a slightly Christian “spin” on the ideals of asceticism and self-control although the principles seem to be the same. Often while promoting the renunciation of the needs or desires of the body as indicative of upright character of the soul or character and commitment to God, the early Christian’s body nonetheless also served as observable (so-called) proof of the subject’s adherence to these ethical mandates. Jerome is particularly opinionated in this respect. For example, he boasts that unlike his opponents, he will fast with “women [and] with religious men whose looks witness to their chastity, and who with the cheek pale from prolonged abstinence, show forth the chastity of Christ.”7 He contrasts his community of early Christians with those 5.  Mark Bradley, “Obesity, Corpulence and Emaciation in Roman Art,” PBSR 79 (2011): 1–41, 21–22. 6. Epist. 55 (LCL Wright). 7. Vigil. 1.12 (NPNF2 6:422).

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who follow Vigilantius, asserting that “to our flock belong the sad, the pale, the meanly clad, who, like strangers in this world, though their tongues are silent, yet speak by their dress and bearing.”8 Indeed, that early Christians were aware of pagan detractors using the corpulence and well-dressed nature of some early Christians against them as a means of collectively branding them as hypocrites can be deduced from Jerome: “The mob salutes us as Greeks and impostors if our tunics are fresh and clean. They may deal in still severer witticisms if they please; they may parade every fat paunch they can lay hold of, to turn us into ridicule.”9 Thus, for some early Christian writers, but by no means all, there is a slight divergence from the broader physiognomic consciousness that tended to privilege robustness but nonetheless is not wholly distinctive as it finds a parallel in interpretations of the physique of the philosopher. Also paralleled are claims regarding disinterest in the body, which were verified by the appearance of the neglected body itself, which provided demonstrable evidence of a self-controlled lifestyle. This is ultimately a component of physiognomic consciousness in and of itself. In any case, that physiognomy was used as something of a universal and observable truth to appeal to—despite the reality of its highly fluid and subjective nature—allowed practitioners to employ it as a persuasive component to other rhetorical arguments or function as the argument itself. This evasion of charges of subjectivity and the idea of access to irrefutable truth, along with the additional benefit of having positive implications for the physiognomists’ intelligence, are two significant reasons why physiognomic polemic made for an appealing strategy in the hetero-orthodox debate.10 It is this purported objectivity combined with implications of the practitioners’ superior analytic capabilities that made physiognomic critiques an important, but underexamined, weapon in the arsenal of those engaged within this debate, given that demarcating between insiders and outsiders was also a rather subjective enterprise.

A Brief Overview of Recent Work on Heresiology Drawing on Jonathan Z. Smith, Karen King notes the liminal position that those who were branded as heretics occupied in early Christianity:11  “Calling people heretics is an effort to place outside those who claim to be on the inside . . . heresy was a particularly disturbing case of proximity in that the heretics claimed to be

8. Jov. 2.36 (NPNF2 6:414). 9. Epist. 38.5 (NPNF2 6:49). 10. Here and in what follows I use the term “heretic” for the sake of fluidity rather than deeming it to be an ontological category. 11.  What follows is by no means any attempt to be exhaustive; rather, the purpose is to indicate that physiognomic thought has not been included in this field of study to date.

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Christians.”12 Not only was this social and theological proximity problematic for early Christians engaged in these negotiations, but equally (if not much more) problematic was that the terms “heresy” and “orthodoxy” did not have any universally agreed-upon ontological definition. As King remarks, “Orthodoxy” and “heresy” are terms of normative evaluation belonging to particular discourses of power and identity . . . Such processes involve exertions of power that exclude and silence, even as they articulate the meaning of self in the face of “otherness.” The power relations implied in discourses of orthodoxy and heresy are firmly embedded in struggles over who gets to say what “truth” is, and they have their discursive setting in on-going processes of Christian selfidentification and identity formation.13

The naming of (and concurrent attempts to silence and theologically exile) the heretic was a process of negotiation for power and status, a form of discourse, and thus heresy (as well as orthodoxy) was unable to be universally defined, despite attempts to do so. In this situation, physiognomy and its claims of being able to reveal objective truth about an opponent’s character was a particularly attractive strategy to employ in this process. The exaggerated or even potentially grossly distorted nature of some of the accusations or descriptions of these heretics has been frequently noted in contemporary scholarship, in particular regarding how this impedes historical reconstruction of what the actual beliefs and practices of these heretics were. King rightfully objects to what she sees as modern scholars of heresy adopting the same criteria used by early Christians in an attempt to unearth the historical beliefs and practices of these figures and groups, whose writings are for the most part nonextant. As King observes, “the information supplied by the polemicist is historically significant, but it must always be read with a mind to their goal of detraction, and hence with an eye for ancient rhetorical conventions of refutation and intent to malign.”14 Offering an analysis and overview of what these ancient strategies consisted of, she cautions against their use by contemporary scholarship. And while her point of critique against much modern scholarship on heresy is an apt one, given that the present work seeks only to identify and discuss aspects of this discourse as rhetoric in its ancient context,15 the range of methods she

12. Karen L. King, What Is Gnosticism (Cambridge, Mass.: Belknap Press, 2003), 24–25 (emphasis original). 13.  Karen L. King, “Factions, Variety, Diversity, Multiplicity:  Representing Early Christian Differences for the 21st Century,” MTSR 23 (2011): 216–37, here 218. 14. King, What Is Gnosticism, 26. 15. Even if the historical reality of the physicalities of these subjects could be discerned (which is highly unlikely), this is of less interest to the present work than that this rhetoric took place, and the persuasive goals that it sought to meet via its utilization.

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identifies is important to note here, if only to highlight how physiognomy as one of these methods has not received the attention it warrants. King identifies several of the strategies that were employed in the heteroorthodox debates: [L]imiting who was allowed to interpret scripture, to say what it really meant; establishing a rule of faith to regulate interpretation; attacking the character of one’s opponents; calling themselves true Christians and their opponents heretics (or waterless clouds, etc); arguing that heretics lacked the truth (whether by the absences of some positive moral or theological trait or the presence of error) and their own views are theologically superior; devising competing genealogies, e.g., from Christ (through apostolic succession which equates the true Church with a hierarchical order of male authority, said to stem from Jesus through the twelve male apostles) or from Satan (through Simon Magus)—here origin is meant to show essence and character; contrasting the unity of the true Church with the divisiveness of heretics (unity implied uniformity while difference implied divisiveness); insisting that adherence to the authority of the established leadership of the one institutional Church constituted orthodoxy; doctrinal variation constituted social deviation (schism); alleging that heresy is produced by outside contamination of an originally pure faith (e.g.: by the importation of Greek philosophy); asserting that the truth is chronologically prior to heresy.16

Similarly, on the subject of these genealogies of heresy, Averil Cameron remarks, Once the heresy or heresies had been caricatured in this way, the heresiologist would move on to the formal refutation, which might take one or more of several approaches: refutation by apparently rational argument, refutation from Scripture, refutation from tradition, and finally, straightforward polemic:  the resort to abuse, wordplay, rhetorical questions, exclamations, and so on—in many ways the direct antitheses of the rhetorical style and techniques that might be employed by the same writer in his homilies.17

While both King and Cameron note the extensive methods or strategies employed by early Christians engaged in this discourse, and indeed include the blanket term of personal abuse or attack on character under physiognomic thought might fall, the use of physiognomic principles in particular to achieve this is conspicuous by its absence.18 This is even more striking in that this physiognomic invective among 16. King, “Factions,” 218–29. 17.  Averil Cameron, “How to Read Heresiology,” JMEMS 33, no. 3 (2003):  471–92, here 477. Although Cameron is here speaking of Byzantine heresiological works, and Epiphanius in particular, as she notes the trajectory is one that can be traced back to the earliest centuries of Christianity. 18. The only potential exception I can find that might pertain to this is Shaw’s short article (“Wolves”) that briefly addresses Gregory of Nazianzus’s portrait of Julian the apostate (also

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rivals is attested in roughly contemporaneous works regarding philosophical figures and their rivalry for followers, which provides a fruitful analogy to early Christians engaged in a similar struggle. Philostratus relates that Scopelian from Smyrna was subject to physiognomic polemic by his rival Timocrates, who later added Polemo as one of his followers. Scopelian, at least according to Philostratus who sided in the debate with Timocrates, “had become addicted to the use of pitch-plasters and professional hair-removers.”19 Gleason also discusses this anecdote and wryly notes that “in this contest between hirsute philosophy and depilated rhetoric, all the leisured youth of Smyrna took sides. Polemo chose his paradigm according to physiognomic principles. Though hitherto a pupil of both men, he threw his weight to Timokrates, ‘whose hair, during debate, stood up straight on his head and his cheeks, like the mane of a lion springing to attack.’ ”20 While, of course, Polemo’s relation of his choice is intertwined with his own physiognomic literary agenda, Philostratus’s observation that all the wealthy youths of the city also engaged in this debate attests to participation in this physiognomic quarrel as an issue of importance. Moreover, this anecdote also (along with Polemo’s ultimate severing of ties with Scopelian) attests to the sort of rivalry for followers that physiognomic rhetoric could readily lend itself to. Polemo, of course, is perhaps the exemplar of the use of physiognomic polemic in engaging with rivalling philosophers, where issues of status, intelligence, and followers were at stake. Polemo’s chief rival was Favorinus of Arles, who was also of philosophical bent and likewise enjoyed the patronage of the emperor Hadrian. Gleason discusses the conflict between these two at length,21 but for present purposes it will suffice to note that physiognomy was a significant component of persuasion in this skirmish, with Polemo portraying himself as physically (and thus morally) superior and Favorinus as decidedly lacking. As Van Houdt remarks, “the unmistakable message Polemo wanted to convey was that he, more than anyone else, incarnated the perfect man described in his handbook, whereas his rival and archenemy, the sophist Favorinus of Arles, deserved mere contempt because of his barbarous and effeminate nature.”22 This physiognomic polemical debate extended beyond these two individuals themselves, involving not only their respective pupils but—at least according to Philostratus—much of the populace of cities as well: “[this dispute] began in Ionia, where the Ephesians favoured Favorinus, while

addressed below). Her focus, however, is less about the rhetoric of heretical discourse or boundary formation and more on the phenomenon of attempts to mask impiety. 19. Vit. Soph. 536 (Wright, LCL). 20.  Maud W. Gleason, Making Men:  Sophists and Self-Presentation in Ancient Rome (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1995), 73. 21. Gleason, Making Men, esp. Chapters 1–2. 22.  Toon Van Houdt, “Speaking Eyes, Concealing Tongues:  Social Function of Physiognomics in the Early Roman Empire,” in Sprakets Speglingar:  Festskrift till Birger Bergh, ed. Arne Jonsson Och Anders Piltz (Angelholm: Skaneforl, 2000), 637.

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Smyrna admired Polemo; and it became more bitter in Rome; for their consulars and sons of consulars by applauding either one or the other started between them a rivalry such as kindles the keenest envy and malice . . . they are to be blamed for the speeches that they composed assailing one another.”23 Gleason identifies Polemo’s strategy in his description of Favorinus in his manual, where the insults were now “nominally camouflaged by the pretense of objective description within impersonal scientific categories, [so that] physiognomical character assassination may proceed.”24 In appealing to physiognomy to persuade and win followers, Polemo and other intellectuals like him were able to couch their polemic as an instance of observable fact. As a form of argumentation, it allowed the practitioner to denigrate the character of his opponent and in turn to curtail his influence and any claims to superiority. For early Christian authors engaged in hetero-orthodox discourses, it is apparent why physiognomy would be an appealing resource to add to their arsenals of rhetoric. For opponents of heretics, apostates, and their respective followers, physiognomy provided a method of character denigration that could purport to be objectively verifiable, thus curtailing to some degree of the subjectivity inherent to this struggle, given the lack of ontological definition of a heretic. Physiognomy as a component of polemical persuasion provided authors additional support to place opponents occupying this liminal position firmly on the “outside.” Regardless of what arguments these opponents might make, ultimately their bodies spoke louder (and more persuasively) than mere words, and, unlike speech, did not lie. This strategy was used both in “real life,” where the authors and their audiences had potential awareness of the “real” physicality of their opponents, as well as in narrative accounts where an author had a bit more freedom in how he portrayed his deviant subject. Of course, though, even authors in “real life” were free to put whatever spin on an aspect of physicality that might have been pertinent to an audience. As Harrill remarks in his work on physiognomic polemic against Paul, “Rhetoric is not physical description.”25 Similarly, as noted in Chapter 1, the same person and even the same physical traits can be given very different interpretations. While presumably there needed to be some correspondence between the physicality of the opponent in actually and what the author is describing in order for it to have an air of verisimilitude, the author was ultimately quite free to exaggerate these descriptions, and thus while surely constrained in some way by historical fact, the degree to which this was the case is ultimately beyond our reach. In some cases, it

23. Vit. Soph. 490–91. 24. Gleason, Making Men, 46. 25.  J. Albert Harrill, “Invective against Paul (2 Cor 10:10), the Physiognomies of the Ancient Slave Body, and the Greco-Roman Rhetoric of Manhood,” in Antiquity and Humanity:  Essays on Ancient Religion and Philosophy Presented to Hans Dieter Betz on His 70th Birthday, ed. Adela Yarbro Collins and Margaret M. Mitchell (Tubingen:  Mohr Siebeck, 2001), 203.

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seems as though an author had never in fact seen his opponent in person, although likely there must have been some attempt at some degree of verisimilitude if his audience was familiar with traditions about the opponent’s physicality. If they did not have that knowledge, then it seems reasonable that the author had a very high degree of creative control, perhaps even fabricating aspects entirely, although ultimately (and unfortunately) this, too, cannot be established with any degree of certainty. What follows is arranged more or less chronologically according to the opponent in question. This is by no means an exhaustive selection, but rather a sampling of some of the clearer examples of this use of physiognomy in debates with theological opponents.

Simon Magus That the apocryphal Acts of Peter subscribes to physiognomic thought, independent of my arguments below, is perhaps best evidenced in an incident that is related early in the narrative: the ship captain Theon employs a physiognomic assessment on Peter in order to judge his character: “and considering him [Peter] he [Theon] perceived by his walk that he was of one mind in the faith and a worthy minister.”26 Throughout the remainder of the text, the apostle Peter is depicted as the heroic counterpart to the treacherous magician Simon.27 Their rivalry is frequently depicted as a deliberate contrast of their wonder-working abilities and character, with the intent to highlight Simon as a deceptive charlatan and Peter as a legitimate miracle worker and honorable envoy of Jesus. One aspect of this contrast that has not been given significant attention is the description of Simon’s voice. It is described as “thin” or “shrill” [gracilis] by the narrator and as a “weak and useless voice” [infirmem et inutilem] by a dog who Peter has miraculously endowed with human speech.28 Few scholars have addressed these descriptions of Simon’s voice, Gerard Luttikhuizen and Stephen Haar being the only two of whom I am aware. Luttikhuizen proposes that this depiction is meant to be ironic, a contrast between the reported great acclamations of Simon as a god in Italy and his shrill voice that is anticlimactic.29 Similarly, Haar posits that this shrill voice is meant to be a “comic contrast” between the character and his public acclamation

26. Acts of Peter V. 27. For a second-century date and citation of relevant literature, please see Callie Callon, “Images of Empire, Imaging the Self: The Significance of the Imperial Statue Episode in the Acts of Peter,” HTR 106, no. 3 (2013): 1 n. 1. 28. Acts of Peter 4 and 12 (Wilhelm Schneemelcher, ed., New Testament Apocrypha, rev. ed., Eng. trans. ed. R. McL. Wilson, 2 vols. [Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox, 1991]), vol. 1. 29.  Gerard Luttikhuizen, “Simon Magus as a Narrative Figure,” in The Apocryphal Acts of Peter: Magic, Miracles and Gnosticism, ed. Jan N. Bremmer (Leuven: Peeters, 1998), 43.

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as divine.30 And while Luttikhuizen and Haar are most likely correct that there is an ironic or humorous contrast in play, in the context of ancient physiognomic consciousness much more can be said about this characterization of Simon’s voice. While to a modern audience these might seem to be merely a couple of words of relative insignificance, in antiquity the male voice was the subject of considerable physiognomic scrutiny. Hair and voice were deemed to be secondary sex characteristics and “are ‘read’ socially as signs of the inner heat that constitutes a man’s claim to physiological and cultural superiority over women, eunuchs, and children.”31 For men in particular, the voice “functions as a sign in the symbolic language of masculine identity.”32 In antiquity, a speaker’s vocal deportment was considered diagnostic of his character, for better or for worse. Thus, for an ancient audience, this characterization of Simon’s voice would have conveyed implications for his character: a feeble or weak voice was deemed to be one of the indications of the effeminate or androgynous male both in the physiognomic manuals as well as in broader sentiment. To cite but a few examples, Quintilian warns that a man with a weak voice will be unable to produce quality oratory—one of the requirements of being an elite Roman male—given that such a voice is to be found among eunuchs and women.33 Cicero too, in his advice on oratory, states that all men must strive to avoid a “weak and effeminate” voice.34 In Lucian of Samosata’s “Eunuchus,” this title character is described on two occasions as having a weak and effeminate voice.35 And Dominic Montserrat has proposed (as noted previously) that the runaway slave described in P.Oxy 51. 3617 is depicted in ways (including his shrill voice) that underscore his servile nature and thus lack of masculinity, which were interlinked in ancient thought.36 On a related note, J.  Albert Harrill has rightly argued that Paul’s opponents were contesting aspects of his masculinity in describing his speech as “weak,” also viewing this lack of masculinity as related to the ancient rhetoric of slavery.37 30. Stephen Haar, Simon Magus: The First Gnostic? (Berlin; New York: Walter de Gruyter, 2003), 112 n. 255. 31.  Maud Gleason, “The Semiotics of Gender:  Physiognomy and Self-Fashioning in the Second Century CE,” in Before Sexuality: The Construction of Erotic Experience in the Ancient Greek World, ed. D. M. Halperin, J. J. Winkler, and F. I. Zeitlin (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1990), 401. 32. Gleason, Making Men, 103. 33. Inst. Orat., 11.3.13; 11.11.1. 34. De or. 3.11. 35. Eunuch. 7 (γυναικειος) and 12 (γυναικων). 36.  Dominic Monserrat, Sex and Society in Greco-Roman Egypt (London; New York: Kegan Paul International, 1996), 55. Jennifer Glancy notes that “the exclusion of slaves from the category of manhood was . . . implicit in ancient Mediterranean conceptions of masculinity” (Jennifer Glancy, Slavery in Early Christianity [Minneapolis, Minn.: Fortress Press, 2006], 25). 37. Harrill, “Invective against Paul”.

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Ps.-Aristotle’s manual states that a high-pitched and broken voice is one of the characteristics of a kinaidos,38 Polemo’s manual includes a voice that is “thin, weepy, and shrill” among the characteristics of the androgynoi,39 following this the Anonymous Latin manual describes the kinaidos as having a weak or drained voice,40 and Adamantius states that “the man who speaks with a high and soft and flexible voice indicates that he is androgynous.”41 In contrast to Simon’s voice, in the Acts of Peter the apostle is described as having a “strong” [maximus] or “great” [magna] voice,42 which in ancient physiognomic thought indicated positive traits typically deemed to be masculine in nature. For example, Polemo considers a loud voice to be a component of the signs that indicate a man of boldness and strength of spirit,43 and Quintilian recommends that the best voice is strong (magna) and sturdy (firma), which is a stark contrast to Simon’s infirma voice.44 Moreover, Peter is depicted as conforming to expectations for a formal public speaker. Before he addresses the large crowd of spectators in the forum, the text relates that he began to speak “after a long silence.”45 In speaking of ancient exhortation regarding the comportment of the speaker, Fritz Graf observes that “the orator is adviced not to start to speak immediately; he should pause, even pat his head or wring his fingers.”46 While Peter does not employ the accompanying physical gestures, his pause is indeed a seemingly loaded one. The ancient conception of the sliding scale of gender required a tabulation of a variety of different traits in order to point conclusively in one gender direction or another. That Simon’s weak voice is indeed meant to be one such component designating effeminacy finds further support in other aspects of Simon’s physicality portrayed in the text. With the exception of the bewitched crowd that runs to see Simon’s proposed wondrous deeds,47 and the mother of a deceased son that Peter has agreed to resurrect who runs with unrestrained maternal joy,48 Simon is the only character in the work who is depicted as running: “Simon, shrewdly beaten and cast out of the house, ran [cucurrit] to the house where Peter lodged.”49 As Gleason and others observe, gait, like voice, was also subject to physiognomical

38. Physiogn. 812b. 39. Physiogn. 61. 40. Anon. Lat. 98. 41. Physiogn. B45. 42. maximus: 7, 17, 22, 28; magna: 10. 43. Physiogn. B44. 44. Inst. 11.3.40 45. Acts Pet. 23. 46.  Fritz Graf, “The Gestures of Roman Actors and Orators,” in A Cultural History of Gesture, ed. Jan Bremmer and Herman Roodenburg, 36–58, 45. Ithaca, NY:  Cornell University Press, 1992. 47. Acts Pet. 4 [concurrentes]. 48. Acts Pet. 28 [currens cum gaudio magno]. 49. Acts Pet. 14.

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scrutiny in the ancient world and like voice could “betray” an effeminate character, as deficiency in self-control was tantamount to a deficiency in masculinity. As Dio Chrysostom remarks, “one man’s gait reveals his composure and the attention he gives to his conduct, another’s reveals his inner disorder and lack of self-restraint.”50 Similarly, Cicero cautions his son on the acceptable means of gait for the Roman male—it should be neither “listless sauntering” so as “to look like carriers in a festal procession” nor hurrying too quickly as this will reveal a disordered state of mind.51 As Gleason suggests, here Cicero is articulating that a hasty gait and the perceived concurrent mental excitement are “impediments to masculine dignitas.”52 Timothy O’Sullivan notes that elite males were expected to advertise their self-control and masculinity via their bodily deportment and were constantly reminded of the importance of not walking like women, slaves, or effeminate males.53 Adamantius’s physiognomic manual asserts that “the orderly man reveals his self-restraint . . . through his deportment” including being “deep voiced and slow-stepping.”54 The ideal male gait seems to be some middling point between what was considered too slow or too fast: “an orderly (kosmion), quiet (hemeron, hesychon) and leisurely (scholaion) but not sluggish gait is the cultural ideal of pagans and Christians alike.”55 Citing Ambrose’s exhortations regarding what was a suitable gait, Bremmer notes that “it is this calm, unhurried gait, which will be the mark of the gentleman in Rome.”56 Perhaps the most widespread attestation of the conceptual link between insufficient masculinity and a hurried gait is to be found in the figure of the running slave in Greco-Roman comedy. As Anthony Corbeill remarks, “it is a well-known motif of Roman comedy that slaves run, so much so that the phrase ‘running slave’ is almost tautological.”57 Running was perceived to be another marker of servile 50. Cel. Phryg. 35.24. 51. De Offic. 1.36. 52.  Gleason, “The Semiotics of Gender,” 393. For a discussion of the link between (unspecified type of) gait and effeminacy, see Anthony Corbeill, Controlling Laughter: Political Humor in the Late Roman Republic (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1996), 166–67. 53. Timothy O’Sullivan, Walking in Roman Culture (Cambridge; New York: Cambridge University Press, 2011), 13. He further notes that “as many scholars have demonstrated, elite males were expected to advertise their self-control in their very bodies—for it they did not control their bodies, how could they manage to control the state?” (Walking in Roman Culture, 13). 54. Physiogn. 2.49, 1.43–14. 55.  Jan. N. Bremmer, “Walking, Standing, and Sitting in Ancient Greek Culture,” in A Cultural History of Gesture:  From Antiquity to the Present Day, ed. Jan N. Bremmer and Herman Roodenburg (Cambridge: Polity Press, 1991), 20. 56. Ibid. 57.  Anthony Corbeill, Nature Embodied:  Gesture in Ancient Rome (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 2004), 117.

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status and thus conceptually linked to deficiency in masculine character. To return to Simon, not only is he portrayed as running, but at this point in the narrative he is running after having been beaten by slaves, which included having the contents of a chamber pot dumped on him. A crucial component in being a member of the masculine elite was thought to be the ability to protect the body’s physical integrity, and while this aspect of the narrative is not physiognomic per se, it does lend support to the view that Simon’s masculinity is being depicted as severely compromised. As Harrill observes, “in Greco-Roman invective, to accuse a person of weak bodily presence and deficient speech is to call that person a slavish man unfit for public office or otherwise to dominate others.”58 Yet even beyond a deficient masculinity—which was in and of itself bad enough!—Gleason notes that a man who was deemed effeminate was thought to have further character failings. These perceived gender deviants were physiological imposters, deemed deceitful and treacherous. As Gleason suggests, this is presumably because their bodies betray them as living a “lie” in the sense that they try to act like “real” men to fool others, but aspects of their physicality reveal their “true” effeminate nature. This perceived deceptive character coheres well with how Simon is portrayed throughout the Acts of Peter—consistently deceiving those around him, most importantly in misleading the Christian congregation to apostatize and worship him via his fraudulent magical tricks that are, of course, not “real” “miracles” at all. Yet even beyond the use of the anatomical method of physiognomy to underscore the negative aspects of Simon’s character, it seems likely that the ethnographical method is also employed, albeit through visions in the narrative. The day before the final confrontation between Peter and Simon in the forum, Marcellus, the senator who Peter has restored to the Christian faith, receives a dream or vision in his sleep. Marcellus relates the details: I saw you [Peter] sitting in a high place and before you a great multitude, and a woman exceedingly foul (mulierem quendam turpissimam), in sight like an Ethiopian, not an Egyptian, but altogether black and filthy, clothed in rags, and with an iron collar around her neck and chains upon her feet, and dancing. And when you saw me you said to me with a loud voice “Marcellus, the whole power of Simon and of his God is this woman who is dancing; behead her.”59

Of course, this is only a vision, not an actual depiction of the physicality of Simon. Perhaps the narrative felt constrained by the tradition it relates that Simon was from Samaria, and thus presumably this was the only means of depicting him as such. In any case, it is worth noting that in other visions in the dream, Jesus, although taking various forms, is predominantly described in favorable physical

58. Harrill, “Invective against Paul,” 204. 59. Acts Pet. 22.

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terms60 and Peter is described as looking as he does in real life.61 Moreover, the implications of the physical characteristics ascribed to Simon as the woman in the dream cohere well with the above reading of his voice and gait, so it is probable that this is an extension of the moral characterization of Simon. Most notable in this description, of course, is the depiction of him as a woman. This is likely a logical extension of the effeminacy implied in his character elsewhere via his gait and voice. The collar around the figure’s neck and chains around the feet most likely indicate servile status, and, as above, also an indication of insufficient masculinity. Dancing, too, was thought to be the activities of women or kinaidoi and decidedly emasculating for a free male to undertake. For example, a character in Plautus’s Miles Gloriosous asserts that “no soft cineadus can dance as well as I do!”62

60.  Jesus is described as appearing as “a youth, shining and beautiful” (5), “clad in a vesture of brightness, smiling” (16), and, simultaneously, by three widows as, “We saw an old man of such comeliness as we are not able to declare to thee; but others said: We saw a young man; and others: We saw a boy touching our eyes delicately, and so were our eyes opened,” respectively (21). An exception to this is the rather common utilization of the suffering servant imagery in Acts Pet. 24: “he had no beauty nor comeliness” and as a component of his surpassing all human capacities (see below) that he was both “fair and foul” and “beautiful but among us lowly” (20). Although the polymorphy of Jesus might indicate a nonadherence to the physiognomic consciousness, along with Peter’s assertion that in his earthly life Jesus was not of pleasing form, it is equally possible that these visions serve as a sort of “do-over,” a way of presenting the physicalilties of characters that did not need to cohere with previous tradition. The text is certainly a “do-over” or apology for Peter’s character, as several times in the narrative his past failings (such as not being able to walk on water, denying Jesus) are brought up by characters in the text, giving Peter the chance to address them and respond apologetically. These, of course, have the function of “proving” that Jesus was foretold in the scriptures, as well as showing that Jesus’s physical form ‘trumps’ earthly bodies or to reinforce his divine status in that he can change forms, and indeed, adopts a very wide range of seemingly conflicting forms: “this God who is great and small, fair and foul, young and old, seen in time and unto eternity invisible; whom the hand of man has not held, yet is he held by his servants; whom no flesh hath seen, yet now sees; who is the word proclaimed by the prophets and now appearing; not subject to suffering, but having now made trial of suffering for our sake (or like unto us); never chastised, yet now chastised; who was before the world and has been comprehended in time; the great beginning of all principality, yet delivered over unto princes; beautiful, but among us lowly; seen of all yet foreseeing all. This Jesus you have, brothers, the door, the light, the way, the bread, the water, the life, the resurrection, the refreshment, the pearl, the treasure, the seed, the abundance (harvest), the mustard seed, the vine, the plough, the grace, the faith, the word: he is all things and there is none other greater than he” (20). 61. Acts Pet. 22. 62.  Mil. glor. 668 (Nixon, LCL). Anthony Corbeill also discusses the connection in ancient thought between dancing and effeminacy (Controlling Laughter, 167–68).

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David Brakke’s work has explored the rather commonplace early Christian presentation of demons described as Ethiopian, arguing that in these instances dark skin was intended to denote not just evil, but in particular the “sexual evil” of lust, given that Ethiopians were thought to be hypersexual.63 While this argument holds true in other works where demons are described as Ethiopian, this is not readily applicable in this instance: nowhere in the Acts of Peter is Simon labeled as or even intimated as being sexually promiscuous or deviant despite his numerous other failings. Given that the Acts of Peter is not shy about stipulating perceived sexual transgressions elsewhere in the work,64 presumably we would find evidence attesting to or at least intimating Simon’s purported sexual deviance elsewhere, yet there is not. Thus, perhaps a better explanation of this demon’s described ethnicity can be found that coheres with how Simon is portrayed in other portions of the text. John Marshall observes that in this scene, as in the Shepherd of Hermas, “the motif of blackness, in clothing and skin, is used to emphasize moral character. And the exoticism of Ethiopia—note Heliodorus’s Aethiopica—is characteristic of the romances.”65 In ethnographic physiognomy, the stipulation of the figure’s skin color and country of origin is of particular note. Ps.-Aristotle states that “those who are too swarthy are cowardly; this applies to Egyptians and Ethiopians.”66 Similarly, Polemo remarks that “the [skin] color black is an indication of cowardice, longlasting ambition, dejection. Such are the people of the south, the Ethiopians and the Zanj, the people of Egypt, and what is near them.”67 According to Adamantius, “all Egyptians have signs in common, from which the whole race can be analyzed physiognomically, as do Ethiopians and Scythians” and “it is clear from what has been said that a black color reveals cowardice and guile.”68 And the anonymous Latin manual relates that “a black [skin] color indicates a pusillanimous, timid, and cunning man: it is referred to those who live in the southern regions, such as the Ethiopians, the Egyptians, and those who neighbor them.”69 These attributes of cowardice and thus in term effeminacy cohere well with how Simon is portrayed

63.  David Brakke, “Ethiopian Demons: Male Sexuality, the Black-Skinned Other, and the Monastic Self,” JHS 10 (2001): 501–35. 64. Such as in the case with the character Chryse who had a bad reputation in Rome not only for fornication but also for the even worse sexual deviance of having intercourse with her slaves. As Glancy notes, “sexual relationships between free women and male slaves were especially suspect” (Slavery, 27). 65.  John W. Marshall, “Revelation and Romance: Gender Bending in the Shepherd of Hermas and the Acts of Peter,” Rhetorical Argumentation in Biblical Texts: Essays from the Lund 2000 Conference, ed. Anders Eriksson, Thomas H. Olbricht, and Walter Uberlacker [Harrisberg, PA: Trinity Press International, 2002]: 375–88 (832)). 66. Ps.-Aristotle, Physiogn., 812a. 67. Polemo, Physiogn., B32. 68. Adamantius, A2. 69. Anon. Lat. 79.

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throughout the work. Perhaps the clearest instance where his cowardice is depicted is in the episode where he hides in Marcellus’s house in order to avoid confrontation with Peter, cravenly telling the door keeper to tell Peter when he comes that he is “not within [the house]” and giving the same plea to the dog when it enters the house to summon Simon.70 Simon’s guile and cunning have already been addressed above. However, what remains curious is the emphatic distinction that the figure is Ethiopian, not Egyptian, despite these two ethnicities frequently being represented as similar in the manuals. One possible explanation for this is that the ancient saying derived from Aesop’s fable of “washing an Ethiopian white” was commonplace and thus perhaps a means of underscoring the darkness of this figure’s skin color derived from popular thought. Of course, as Jan N. Bremmer remarks in discussing the portrayal of demons in the Acts of Andrew as Ethiopian, this was “a favourite manifestation of ancient demons,” so perhaps there is nothing more to be read into this stipulation.71 Perhaps more likely at work is Brakke’s observation of a scale of skin color in antiquity, with Ethiopians thought to be darker than Egyptians and thus more unpalatable to be compared to given that they occupied the very end of the spectrum in a context where the medium was the ideal.72 In any case, the implications of servility, cowardice, and effeminacy that are found in this figure cohere well with how Simon’s character is portrayed elsewhere in the narrative.

The Followers of Valentinius That Tertullian was aware of the practice of physiognomy is attested in his assertion regarding the zoological method that “some men are compared to beasts because of their character, disposition, and pursuits (since, as God says, “man is like the beasts that perish [Ps. 49.20],” although he denies that this implies than persons are reborn as the animals that their character resembles).73 Elsewhere he is very close to the ethnographical method in asserting that “population is greater within the temperate regions of the East and the West, and men’s minds are sharper, while there is not a Sarmatian whose wits are not dull and humdrum,” although he does not reference physical appearance.74 He employs ethnography frequently in his attacks of Marcion, but the lack of reference to his opponents’ physical appearance makes this fall short of physiognomics per se and thus will not be addressed here. Ireneaus is not as forthright in attesting to his knowledge of physiognomic

70. Acts Pet. 9, 12. 71. Jan N. Bremmer, “Magic in the Apocryphal Acts of the Apostles,” in The Metamorphosis of Magic from Late Antiquity to the Early Modern Period, ed. Jan N. Bremmer, Jan R. Veenstra, and Brannon Wheeler (Leuven: Peeters Press, 2002), 51–70, here 57. 72. Brakke, “Ethiopian Demons,” 507. 73. An. 32.8. 74. An. 25 (ANF 3:206).

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thought, but that he does feel it is important to castigate the appearance of the Valentinians implies that he thought it would help lend persuasive traction to his denigration of their characters. Both authors present the physiognomy of the followers of Valentinius as indications of (unwarranted) arrogance. Tertullian characterizes this group as one that has attempted to obscure the meanings of scripture and has sought to cover up their deceit by acting the part of the philosopher. He remarks, “[I]f you propose to them inquiries sincere and honest, they answer you with a stern look and contracted brow, and say ‘the subject is profound.’ ”75 It is probable that here Tertullian is making use of the negative image of the figure of the pseudophilosopher, who attempts to pass himself off as intelligent by aping the physicality of archetypal philosophers. Despite their best efforts, however, their buffoonery and charlantry is ultimately revealed, in part by trying too hard to “look the part”—their concentrated efforts to look the role are a sign in and of itself that they are attempting this deception. In addition to the excerpt regarding the Ignorant Book Collector cited in Chapter 1, Lucian offers other amusing examples of this perceived phenomenon. In his Fug., Philosophy personified remarks, [T]here are some, Zeus, who occupy a middle ground between the multitude and the philosophers. In deportment, glance, and gait they are like us, and similarly dressed; as a matter of fact, they want to be enlisted under my command and they enroll themselves under my name, saying that they are my pupils, disciples and devotees. Nevertheless, their abominable way of living, full of ignorance, impudence and wantonness, is no trifling outrage against me.76

Indeed, despite this attempt at looking the part, “in irascibility, pettishness, and proneness to anger they are beyond little children; indeed they give no little amusement to onlookers, when their blood boils up in them for some trivial reason so that they look livid in colour, with a reckless, insane stare and foam (or rather venom) fills their mouths.”77 Similarly, in his Icar. 29, Lucian speaks of those dressing up as philosophers: “cloaking themselves in the high-sounding name of virtue, elevating their eyebrows, wrinkling up their foreheads and letting their beards grow long, they go about hiding loathsome habits very like actors in a tragedy.” Although much later, Jerome too will accuse an opponent of employing the traditionally understood physicality of a philosopher in order to conceal his character. He remarks of Rufinus, “Why should he knit his brow and draw in and

75.  Val. 1 (ANF 3:503). On a more in-depth discussion of the association of the contracted brow with persons of an intellectual disposition, please see Callie Callon, “The Unibrow That Never Was: Paul’s Appearance in the Acts of Paul and Thecla,” in Dressing Jews and Christians in Antiquity, ed. Alicia Batten, Carly Daniel-Hughes, and Kristi UpsonSaia (Surrey : Ashgate Press, 2014), 99–116. 76. Fug. 4 (Harmon, LCL). 77. Fug. 19 (Harmon, LCL).

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wrinkle up his nostrils, and weigh out his hollow words, and simulate among the common crowd a sanctity which his conduct belies?”78 Like these figures, for Tertullian the Valentinians, when faced with intellectual challenge, attempt to mask their lack of knowledge via the comportment of their bodies in the manner deemed typical of philosophers, along with the implicit claims of superior wisdom.79 Irenaeus chooses a different means of comparison—the zoological method as pertains to the rooster—yet he, too, describes members of this group’s physicality in a pejorative physiognomic way. He cautions, But if anyone does yield himself up to them like little sheep, and follows out their practice, and their “redemption,” such a one is puffed up80 to such an extent that he thinks he is neither in heaven nor on earth, but that he has passed within the Pleroma; and having already embraced his angel, he walks with a strutting gait and a supercilious countenance, possessing all of the air of a cock (gallinacei).81

For Irenaeus, the arrogant character of this group is plainly revealed by their arrogant means of comporting themselves. The strutting gait was then (as it is now) considered to be an indication of arrogance. Philo speaks of the physical indications of an arrogant character: “And as the soul of such a man is blameable, so also is his body in all its positions and motions, for he walks on tip-toes, and lifts his head on high, strutting and giving himself airs, and he is elated and puffed up beyond his nature.”82 And although of an earlier period, Demosthenes takes his rival Aeschines to task, in part because of his arrogant strut in the Agora.83 While Irenaeus does not elaborate on what, exactly, constituted this supercilious countenance, evidently some facial expression that evidenced this arrogance was widely enough understood or conceptualized that he did not need to elaborate on specifics. By appealing to the appearance of their opponents, Tertullian and

78. Ruf 1.32 (NPNF2 3:500). 79.  This is an image that Tertullian also seems to employ against Hermogenes. In discussing some of the finer points of his (in Tertullian’s view) rather muddy argument, Tertullian asserts, “But next you raise your eyebrows with a corresponding gesture of your finger, toss back your head and say” (Herm. 27). That Tertullian is accusing his opponent of acting the sophist finds further support in his rejoinder that “[n]ow I shall answer simply, without resorting to any affectation of speech” as well as his summary that “such are the quibbles and subtleties of the heretics who twist the simple meaning of ordinary words into something problematic” (Herm. 27 [ANF 3:492]). 80. “Puffed up” is most likely an echo of Paul’s use of the term, which in turn was most likely derived from Aesop’s fable of the arrogant frog 81. Haer. 3.15.2 (ANF1:440). 82. The Works of Philo. Translated by C. D. Yonge. Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, January 15, 1990. 83. Orat. 19.314.

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Irenaeus can supplement their other arguments regarding the arrogance that is not warranted by actual intellectual capacity in objective terms.

Arius Constantine’s description of Arius’s physical appearance is perhaps an instance where traits that are deemed positively by some are clearly meant in a negative way by the author. The positive evaluation of pallor and thinness as being indicative of the characteristic of self-restraint by some early Christians has been discussed above. Constantine, however, evidently does not have this more positive evaluation in mind, although some of the physical traits he states that Arius has do also receive a more positive interpretation elsewhere.84 At the time of this letter (c. 333–34), Arius was around 80 years old, 3 years away from his death, and about 20 years older than Constantine. Old age was quite flexible as a concept, and often authors do not stipulate what exactly they mean by “old.” However, from the first century onward, the age of 60 or 65 was commonly understood as the threshold of old age. Perhaps despite being on this threshold himself, Constantine nonetheless had this pejorative view of old age in composing his description. He writes, [L]ook, look . . . how his veins and flesh are possessed with poison, and are in a ferment of severe pain; how his whole body is wasted and is all withered and sad and pale and shaking; and all is miserable and fearfully emaciated. How hateful to see, and how filthy is his mass of hair, how he is have dead all over, with failing eyes and bloodless countenance [ὡς διερρύηκεν αὐτοῦ τὸ σῶμα πᾶν κατισχνωθέν—αὐχμοῦ τε καὶ ῥύπου καὶ θρήνων καὶ ὠχ ριάσεως καὶ φρίκης καὶ μυρίων τε γέμει κακῶν καὶ δεινῶς κατέσκληκεν—ὡς εἰδεχθὲς καὶ κατάρρυπον τὸ τῆς κόμης δάσος, ὡς ὅλος ἡμιθνὴς καὶ ἐξασθενῶν ἤδη τὸ βλέμμα, ὡς ἄναιμον τὸ πρόσωπον], and woe-begone; so that all things combining in him at once, frenzy, madness, and folly, from the continuation of the complaint, have made you wild and savage . . . He does not perceive in what a bad state he is. He says: “I am exalted with delight and I jump, leaping with joy, and I soar.”85

While of course some of these attributes overlap with those often attributed to the ascetic, Constantine’s list goes beyond these, both in severity as well as in additional details that make it clear that he is using this depiction for rhetorical

84.  Discerning if Constantine’s primary motivations were theological or political is beyond the present scope. It suffices to note that he had a clear interest in establishing an orthodoxy, for whatever his reasons. 85. In Athanasius Decr. 40.35-36. In H. G. Opitz, Athanasius Werke, band 2 (Berlin: De Gruyter, 1935). Translation from St. Athanasius: In Controversy with the Arians, trans. John Henry Parker (London: F. and J. Rivington, 1853).

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purpose to undermine Arius’s character.86 Thinness and pallor are, for some early Christian authors, positive indications of restraint, but this depiction goes far beyond these attributes:  “fearfully emaciated,” a “bloodless countenance,” and “half dead all over” seem to indicate an ascetic practice taken too far, and perhaps this is what Constantine is intimating with these attributes. There is also a link in broader physiognomic thought where pallor is one of the indications of madness, often listed alongside of others. Among other attributes, Sallust notes that Catiline’s “bloodless complexion [color ei exanguis]” revealed his madness,87 and Seneca posits that Caligula’s pale face [palloris], along with other attributes, did the same.88 In any case, designations such as frenzy, madness, wildness, and savagery make clear that Arius, and no doubt his character and the doctrines he espouses, is for Constantine clearly unfit. Barnes briefly notes this description, suggesting that for Constantine, “God exacts vengeance on the criminal who inflicts wounds and scars on his church. Look at Arius! His wasting and emaciated flesh, his careworn appearance, his thinning hair, the pallor of his visage, his half-dead appearance— all these attest his stupidity and madness. Constantine, ‘the man of God,’ has seen through Arius, who has cast himself into utter darkness.”89 Similarly, Odahl suggests that Constantine “ridiculed the emaciated physical appearance of Arius as the outward sign of his inward corruption.”90 Of course, another potential avenue of physiognomic polemic might also be in view. Karen Cokayne observes that in antiquity there were two polarized conceptions regarding old age and the physical manifestations of it. One perspective was positive and viewed old age as an age of wisdom and the other was extremely negative that placed derisive and scornful emphasis on bodily decay.91 She notes that while there was not a distinct physiognomy regarding old age, under the broader conventions of physiognomy the elderly did not fare well:  “A strong and healthy body was associated with sincerity, masculinity and power . . . the literature of physiognomy was unkind to the physique of the old without even mentioning old age.”92 She suggests that “[a]s physical decline was biologically inevitable, the more popular literary sources (comedy, tragedy, poetry, satire) almost universally characterised old age

86.  Note the striking similarity between this description and the later one authored by Julian, cited in Chapter 1, albeit different deities are assigned the role of administering divine retribution. 87. Sall. Cat., 15.5. 88. Sen. De Constantia, 18.1, noted above. 89.  Timothy D. Barnes, Constantine and Eusebius (Cambridge, Mass.:  Harvard University Press, 1981), 233. 90.  Charles M. Odahl, Constantine and the Christian Empire (London; New York: Routledge, 2004), 227. 91.  Karen Cokayne, Experiencing Old Age in Ancient Rome (London:  Routledge, 2003), 12. 92. Ibid., 47.

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by physical decay and decrepitude of some sort.”93 She cites some of the physical attributes ascribed to the elderly in ancient literature:  “sallow complexioned,” “decrepit.”94 Seneca despairs of his “extreme thinness”95 and “trembling of limbs and voices”96 and eyes filled with rheum.97 Although pinpointing with any more certitude that given physical traits correspond to a given character trait is beyond the information available in the sources, it is nonetheless clear that for Constantine Arius’s physicality makes him morally unfit to follow. While perhaps not physiognomic per se, and slightly beyond the time period I proposed to address, the death of Arius as related by Socrates Scholiasticus is worth mentioning.98 As Catherine Edwards observes, ancient Rome was “a culture so intensely focused on death as a moment of truth”99 and how one died had significant implications for the person’s character, often related with narrative details pertaining to his comportment of his body in his final moments.100 The manner of how one died revealed a “privileged kind of truth” that could be used in hindsight to evaluate the person’s life.101 Socrates, like other ancient authors, viewed Arius’s undignified end as divine retribution, and later authors would describe the deaths of other “heretics” as being similar in nature.102 Socrates narrates that Arius was on his to church, “parad[ing] proudly through the midst of the city” when he was struck by terror arising from his conscience, which resulted in “a violent relaxation of the bowels” and thus hastened to a privy.103 Given that self-control of the body was so significant to ideals of masculinity in antiquity, this not only undermines Arius’s ability to control his body, but it does so in a very graphic, if not to say deeming, way. Ultimately, of course, Arius ends up dying via defecating what seems to be the entire contents of his innards.104 On the other hand is Epiphanius’s description of Arius. This is an example of an instance where the physiognomic subject is able to deceive many of those

93. Ibid., 53. 94. Ibid., 15. 95. Ep. 78.1–2; Cokayne, Experiencing Old Age in Ancient Rome, 48. 96. Ibid., 53. 97. Ibid., 54. 98.  Ecc. Hist. 37. See also Athanasius’s Letter to Serapion letter 54, which I  do not address here as Socrates’ version includes more physiognomic detail. 99.  Catherine Edwards, Death in Ancient Rome (New Haven, CT; London:  Yale University Press, 2007), 216. 100. Edwards’s observation was primarily addressed to martyrdom accounts, discussed in Chapter 4, but is equally applicable to shameful deaths in the ancient world. 101. Edwards, Death, 210. 102.  Ellen Muehlberger, “The Legend of Arius’ Death: Imagination, Space and Filth in Late Ancient Historiography,” P&P 227, no. 1 (2015): 3–29, 8. 103. Ecc. Hist. 1.38.7. 104. Ibid.

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around him (who are not adept at seeing through this physiognomic ruse) but not, of course, the author. Epiphanius describes Arius as “very tall in stature, with a stooping figure—counterfeited like a guileful serpent, and well able to deceive any unsuspecting heart through its cleverly designed appearance. For he was always clad in a short cloak and sleeveless tunic; he spoke gently, and people found him persuasive and flattering.”105 As David Potter suggests, this garb is best understood as that of an ascetic Greek philosopher.106 Epiphanius suggests that with this manner of dress combined with his physical comportment of mock humility (such as stooping figure and speaking gently) Arius is successful—among those who do not know better—in masking his true character. For Epiphanius and his audience, however, they are not so easily fooled and recognize his physiognomic deception (and in turn the negative characteristic he attempted to conceal) for what it is.

Pelagius Jerome’s description of Pelagius is also, I  suggest, best understood when read through a lens of polemic influenced by physiognomic thought.107 In his letter to Domnio (Epist. 50), Jerome writes of Pelagius,108 He is strong in argument, intricate [nodosus] and tenacious [tenax], one to fight [pugnet] with his head pointed and tilted [obliquo et acuminatopugnet capite] . . . He has the flanks and strength of an athlete and is handsomely fleshy [habet latera et athletarum robur et belle corpulentus est] . . . He never blushes or stops to weigh his words: his only aim is to speak as loudly as possible. So famous is he in his eloquence that his sayings are held up as models to our curly-haired youngsters. How often, when I have met him at meetings, has he aroused my wrath and put me in a passion! How often has he spat upon me, and then departed spat upon!109

105.  Pan. 69.3 (trans. Frank Williams, The Panarion of Epiphanius of Salamis: Books II and III [Sects 47–80, De Fide (Leiden: Brill, 1994)]). 106. David S. Potter, The Roman Empire at Bay (London: Routledge, 2004), 434. 107.  That Jerome himself was on the receiving end of physiognomic invective from other early Christians is attested in his letter to Asella (Epist. 45). Here he relates that his detractors label him as “an infamous turncoat, a slippery knave, one who lies and deceives others by Satanic arts” and that of these critics “one would attack my gait or my way of laughing; another would find something amiss in my looks; another would suspect the simplicity of my manner.” Jerome, it seems, got almost as well as he was able to give in the realm of physiognomic polemic. 108.  On the identification of this unnamed opponent as being Pelagius, please see J. N. D. Kelly, Jerome: His Life, Writings, and Controversies (London: Duckworth, 1975), 188. 109. Epist. 50.4 (NPNF2 6:81).

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While Evans has suggested that Jerome utilizes physiognomic commonplaces elsewhere in his writings,110 this particular passage has not received the attention it warrants—indeed, a physiognomic reading helps make sense of some of the seeming inconsistencies. Although for the most part scholars agree that Jerome does not intend to be flattering in his description, little beyond this has been said, including addressing the tension between Jerome’s palpable hostility and his description of Pelagius as “having the flanks and strength of an athlete and being handsomely fleshy.”111 Likening a man’s physique to that of an athlete would seem to indicate a positive or even complimentary depiction, and indeed, “athletes” and “athletic training” often function as positive means of comparison in a variety of ancient texts, including early Christian ones.112 Jerome’s use of the subjunctive mood for pugnet indicates that he does mean this metaphorically, rather than as a factual description. This, then, raises the question of how Jerome can mean this in a derogative sense, as he seemingly must given that it is part of a larger passage deriding Pelagius. I suggest that this becomes comprehensible once the “type” of athlete that Jerome is referring to becomes clear, which involves a more faithful translation of the assertion that shortly proceeds this description: that his opponent fights with what is often rather confusingly translated as a either a “tilted and pointy head”113 or more interestingly, “slanty head.”114 The translation of this as indicating a fixed physical characteristic pertaining to the shape of Pelagius’s head has obscured the imagery that Jerome is evoking, resulting in a rather mystifying insult that, consequently, few scholars have been willing to elaborate on.115

110.  In his Life of Saint Hilarion, 4, cited by Elizabeth C. Evans “Physiognomics in the Ancient World,” Transactions of the American Philosophical Society 59, no. 5 (1969), 77 nt. 25. 111.  Indeed, Kelly notes the tension between Jovinianus and Jerome in this period, yet surprisingly seems to take Jerome’s seemingly flattering comments at face value. He states that “[Pelagius] was a fine figure of a man, of massive and athletic build” (Kelly, Jerome, 188). 112.  See, for example, Jason Konig, Athletics and Literature in the Roman Empire (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005), 132ff. 113. Christopher A. Snyder, The Britons (Malden, Mass.: Blackwell, 2003), 114. 114. http://bekkos.wordpress.com/predestination-in-the-new-testament-and-st-augustine/. Accessed July 10, 2014. 115.  One exception to this is James Mackey, who remarks that for Jerome Pelagius is “in argument he is not only crafty and tenacious; he also disputes with his head poised obliquely and tilted sharply forward, as if he were a ram butting with his horns” (James P. Mackey, An Introduction to Celtic Christianity [Edinburgh:  T&T Clark, 1989], 389). While Mackey is one of the few interpreters who is correct in his understanding of Jerome’s depiction of the position of Pelagius’s head, his interpretation of the imagery that Jerome is evoking is problematic. Here he seems to be influenced by another assertion of Jerome’s, which attributes his mistranslated “horns” of Moses to Pelagius in a mocking way (Pelag. 1.29). Given that in this letter Jerome also likens Pelagius’s physique to an athlete, it seems more likely that his description of his opponent’s head pertains to athletic imagery.

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A better translation, I propose, is that Jerome asserts that Pelagius fights with his head pointed forward and tilted to the side. The gesture of tilting one’s head to the side while it is pointed out forward is, as visual representations demonstrate, the “systasis” or starting position in ancient wrestling, the way the grappling match starts off, which is illustrated and labeled as such by Stephen G. Miller.116 Thus, it is likely that the “athlete” type that Jerome has in mind here is that of the ancient wrestler. This is further supported in his pejorative assertion in another text that Pelagius has “Milo’s giant shoulders,” referring to the legendary ancient wrestler Milo of Croton.117 While athletes were often deemed to be impressive physical specimens, this was not universally the case, and wrestlers in particular seem to have been subject to polemical assertions in some circles. Maria Soler discusses a negative evaluation of the physiques of athletes, noting that it is almost as frequently attested as the more positive assessment in ancient art and literature.118 On this view, the athletic body was perceived to be excessively fleshy or overweight. Lucian offers a satirical example of this perspective, with relevance for wrestlers in particular. In his Dial. mort., an athlete approaches Hermes to board the ferry to the underworld: Hermes:

You, the fat and fleshy one [ὁ παχύς, ὁ πολύσαρκος] who are you? Damasias: Damasias, the athlete [ὁ ἀθλητής] Hermes: Yes, you look like him. I know you, having often seen you in the wrestling schools [ἐν ταῖς παλαίστραις] Damasias: Yes, Hermes, but let me in [the ferry to the underworld]; I’m stripped to the skin! Hermes: No, you’re not, my good fellow, now while you have all that flesh on you. Well, take it off, for you’ll sink the boat, if you only put one foot aboard.119 Being overweight in and of itself often carried with it negative evaluations of a person’s character in physiognomic thought. Discussing Xenophon’s Mem. 2.1.22, Mark Bradley notes that the personification of Virtue is tall and fair, while Vice is represented as fleshy and soft from overeating, remarking that “fleshiness is presented as a departure from the moderation that typifies virtue, and the result of an excessive lifestyle . . . Philosophers and physiognomic thinkers accordingly correlated fatness and thinness with negative moral qualities and behavioural

116.  Stephen G. Miller, Ancient Greek Athletics (New Haven, Conn.:  Yale University Press, 2004), 47. 117. Pelag. 1.28 (NPNF2 6:463). 118. Maria Jose Garcia Soler, “Euripides’ Critique of Athletes in Autolykus fr. 282 N2I,” Nikephoros 23 (2010): 139–53. 119. Dial. Mort. 22 (LCL 431).

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tropes in favour of intermediate physiologies.”120 Ps.-Aristotle equates excessive fleshiness with the dullness of sense in Physiogn. 807b, and in 808b and 810b he relates the purported link between gluttony and dull senses.121 The view of excessive corpulence indicating unintelligence is attested in the anonymous Latin manual:  having such a physique indicates that the subject is a person “without sense.”122 But even beyond this, in the ancient physiognomic consciousness, there was an interrelated set of correlations linking conceptions of excessive corpulence, dimwittedness, and the additional negative character trait of gluttony. In some ancient thought, the athlete—and the wrestler in particular—was deemed to be the exemplar of this, in part influenced by traditions about Milo. As Jason Konig suggests, for some “athletes were the comical embodiments of excess, warnings of the dangers of mistreating the body and neglecting the mind . . . They could be the symbols of stupidity and gluttony, qualities which left their mark on the overfed athletic body.”123 The fragment of Euripides’ Authoclus, which is discussed by Soler, contains an early critique of the purported gluttony of athletes and their comparative uselessness to wise men for benefiting the city. He accuses them of being the worst of “countless evils infecting Greece,” not knowing how to live in an upright fashion, and as individuals as “a slave to his jaw, and a victim of his belly” whose eating habits are a drain on his father’s resources. Elsewhere, in his Electra (385), his statement also attests to the view that athletes lack intelligence, calling them “bodies that are empty of mind.” Seneca in a letter to Lucilius discusses with disdain the huge amounts of food that athletes purportedly consume before remarking, “How feather brained are the athletes!”124 And an anecdote relates that the philosopher Diogenes was once asked why athletes were so stupid. He does not dispute this assessment, responding that it was because they were stuffed with copious amounts of pork and beef.125 But beyond this perception of athletes more generally, the figure of the wrestler inspired by Milo receives particularly harsh evaluations in ancient sources. As previously noted, Jerome elsewhere draws a comparison between the physicalities of Milo and Pelagius in his assertion that Pelagius had the “shoulders of Milo.” As Harald Hagendahl notes, Jerome borrowed this phrase from Cicero,126 and in the original text the other half of the phrase makes clear that a lack of intelligence is being evoked when Cicero

120.  Mark Bradley, “Obesity, Corpulence and Emaciation in Roman Art,” PBSR 79 (2011): 8. 121. These are also cited by Bradley, “Obesity,” 8. 122. Anon. Lat. 93. 123. Konig, Athletics and Literature, 97. 124. Epist. 80.2 (Gummere, LCL). 125. Vit. Soph. 2.49 (Hicks, LCL). 126. Harald Hagendahl, Latin Fathers and the Classics: A Study on the Apologists, Jerome and Other Christian Writers (Goteborg: Stockholm: Almqvist & Wiksell, 1958).

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queries, “[W]ould you rather have the brains of Pythagoras, or the shoulders of Milo?”127 Milo’s shoulders were of particular note in traditions about both his physical strength and perceived gluttony. Athanasius relates the common tradition that “Milo of Croton, as Theodorus of Herapolis says in his work ‘On the Athletic Contests,’ used to eat 20 pounds of meat and as many of bread, and he drank 3 pitchers of wine. And at Olympia he put a four year old bull on his shoulders and carried it around the stadium, after which he cut it up and ate it all alone in a single day.”128 In his remark, Cicero is himself drawing on a broader tradition of the perceived dimwittedness of Milo, most often intertwined with depictions of his perceived gluttony. Many ancient evaluations of Milo present him as “a strong but mindless buffoon and glutton,”129 and Tom Stevenson notes that “[h]e became a famous symbol of brute strength, viz. a symbol of ‘brawn’ rather than ‘brains.’ ”130 Galen is perhaps the most vitriolic of these and is worth citing in full. Although in this passage he speaks of all wrestlers, as Soler suggests he did consider Milo to be the perfect exemplification of the faults he enumerates, and he is particularly cutting in his observations about the tradition of Milo’s shoulders and the bull.131 In his Thrasybulus, Galen is biting in his assessment of wrestlers, stating that “a fat stomach does not lead to sharp wits . . . perhaps dust is the only thing from which they could draw wisdom. However, it is hard to see how the mud in which they have rolled about so many times can be an aid to wisdom, when even pigs live in the midst of it . . . Their whole life can be summed up as no more than eating, drinking, defecating, and rolling around in the mud and dust.”132 Elsewhere, he asserts that wrestlers “are so deficient in reasoning powers that they do not even know whether they have a brain. Always gorging themselves on flesh and blood, they keep their brains soaked

127. Cat. Maior. 33 (Falconer, LCL). 128. Deipn. 412e-f (Olson, LCL). 129.  Michael B. Poliakoff, Combat Sports in the Ancient World: Competition, Violence and Culture (New Haven, Conn.:  Yale University Press, 1987), 119. He further notes that the story of Milo’s death was often cited by ancient authors as “the ultimate example of his witlessness” (Combat Sports, 119). The story of Milo’s death was that it was brought on by himself, seeking to prove his strength by ripping a tree in half, which then closed in on him, pinning him in place, and he was subsequently eaten by wolves. 130.  T. R. Stevenson, “Milo of Croton:  heptakis?” Proceedings of ASCS 34 Conference, Melbourne, January 2012, 1. I am grateful to the author for providing me with a copy of this work. 131.  “What surpassing witlessness, not to realize even this much, that a short while before when the bull was alive, the animal’s mind held up its own body with much less exertion than Milo put forth; furthermore, that the bull could even run as it held itself upright. Yet the bull’s mind was worthless—just about like Milo’s,” Exhortation 13 (1.34– 1.35 in Claudii Galeni Opera Omnia, ed. C. G. Kuhn [Leipzig: Cnobloch]). 132. Thrasybulus, 37.

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in so much filth that they are unable to think accurately and are as mindless as dumb animals.”133 That Jerome was aware of at least some of Galen’s sentiments on the subject and employed them to support his own similar view—albeit with a something of a Christian emphasis added—is attested in his Against Jovinianus: Galen, a very learned man and commentator on Hippocrates, says in his exhortation to the practice of medicine that athletes whose whole life and art consists in stuffing themselves cannot live long, nor be healthy, and that their souls are enveloped with superfluous blood and fat, and as it were covered with mud, have no refined or heavenly thoughts, but are always intent upon gluttonous and voracious feasting . . . what need has a wise man and a Christian philosopher of such strength as is required by athletes and soldiers, and which, if he had it, would only stimulate to vice?134

Thus, in intimating that Pelagius has the body of a wrestler, Jerome is able to convey the negative character traits that were thought by some to accompany this physique in the ancient world. The “handsomely fleshy” is most likely a sarcastic means of calling Pelagius overweight, as was the assertion that his flanks or sides were “like those of an athlete.” Moreover, that the correlated negative character traits of gluttony and stupidity are what Jerome had in mind here is potentially supported in other texts, where he makes similar accusations against Pelagius quite starkly, referring to him as an “idiot” who is stuffed full with Scottish porridge [Scottorum pultibus] and is “big and fat [grandem et corpulentum].”135 While of course historicity has to be taken into account—there is perhaps some evidence that Pelagius was indeed a large man136—that Jerome thought to use this physicality against Pelagius suggests that he thought it would help lend persuasive traction to his denigration of his character. While these negative traits were deemed damning in any ancient context, they would have been even more so for Pelagius, who maintained that he kept an ascetic lifestyle. Here, then, as an added dig, Jerome implies that Pelagius’s body betrays his character in a way that, unlike Pelagius, does not lie. Moreover, this understanding also makes clear the seemingly positive remarks that Pelagius is “strong in argument, intricate and tenacious,” which is clearly at odds with his other assertion that he never “stops to weigh his words:  his only aim is to speak as loudly as possible.” Intricate [nodosus] and tenacious [tenax]

133. Galen, Exhortation, 10–12. 134. Jov. 2.11 (NPNF2 6:396). 135. Comm. Jer. 3.1 (trans. Michael Graves and ed. Christopher A. Hall, Commentary on Jeremiah (Ancient Christian Texts) [Downers Grove, Ill.: InterVarsity Press, 2012]). 136. Paul Orosius also takes the time to highlight what he views as Pelagius’s thick neck and fat face and large shoulders (Apol. 27), although perhaps he is just drawing on Jerome’s account, so historicity is not necessarily informing the description.

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are terms that evoke images of wrestling,137 thus it is probable that Jerome is here intimating that Pelagius fights like a wrestler—using his brawn rather than his brains to engage. Elsewhere Jerome says, “I have cited the example of only one philosopher so that our fine, erect, muscular athletes, who hardly make a shadow of a footmark in their swift passage, whose words are in their fists and their reasoning in their heels.”138 Moreover, here he is perhaps also referencing Quintilian’s advice on arguing a position, where the untrained orator will forge ahead with brute strength like a gladiator or wrestler but despite this is ultimately not successful.139 For Jerome, Pelagius’s fighting skills do not lend themselves to intellectual debate, evidenced by his body.

Jovinianus Jovinianus wrote several treatises (now lost) and gained some popularity in Rome before being denounced as a heretic by Siricius, the bishop of Rome.140 Jovinianus had been a monk prior to adopting a more worldly way of life, and his works seem to have championed a rejection of the ascetic way of life extolled by Jerome. In his Against Jovinianus (c. 393), Jerome, alongside of more philosophically based arguments, again employs physiognomic invective. Here, similar to his attack on Pelagius, he highlights what he deems to be a lifestyle of excessive indulgence. He castigates Jovinianus, remarking, I am amazed at the portentous forms which Jovinianus, as slippery as a snake and like another Proteus,141 so rapidly assumes. In sexual intercourse and full feeding he is an Epicurean; in the distribution of rewards and punishments he all at once

137.  For example, Augustine speaks of the nodos muscles of persons wrestling at the wrestling school (De quant. An 21.36), and Lucian (Anacharsis, 24), albeit it writing in Greek, speaks of wrestlers and wrestling, saying that it builds the practitioner’s καρτεροὺς (meaning strong, steadfast, patient which would correspond to tenacious) and involves περ ιπλοκὰς (meaning intricate, entanglement). 138. Jov. 2.14 (NPNF2 6:398). 139. Inst. 2.12.1-2. 140. Oliver Freiberger, ed., Asceticism and Its Critics: Historical Accounts and Comparative Perspectives (Oxford; New York: Oxford University Press, 2006), 45. 141. Jerome’s use of snake imagery to castigate his opponents is simply too widespread to cite in full. It, along with dogs, is a favored means of denigrating his opponents, and for the sake of space I have decided to focus on his more elaborate physical descriptions of his opponents. In Greek mythology, Proteus was an early water deity who was called the god of “elusive sea change,” indicating that he was thought to change form with the fluidity of water. While he can predict the future, he was thought to change form in order to avoid doing so—he would only answer to someone who was capable of capturing him. Here Jerome’s physiognomic description of him plays up this idea of Jovinianus’s changing

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becomes a Stoic . . . But a minute ago you were barefooted: now you not only wear shoes, but decorated ones. Just now you wore a rough coat and dirty shirt, you were grimy, haggard, and your hand was horny with toil; now you are clad in linen and silks, and strut like an exquisite [incedis ornatus] in the fashions of the Atrebates and the Laodiceans. Your cheeks are ruddy [rubent buccae], your skin shining [nitet cutis], your hair smoothed down in front and behind, your belly protrudes [protensus est aqualiculus], your shoulders are raised up, your neck so full and so loaded with fat [turget guttur et de obesis] that the half-smothered words can scarce make their escape. Surely in such extremes of dress and mode of life there must be sin on one side or the other. I will not assert that the sin lies in the food or clothing, but that such fickleness and changing for the worse is almost censurable in itself.142

Here Jerome offers another example of the privileging of Christian moderation as is manifest in the body, although here he is even critical of Jovinianus’s earlier attempts to adhere to this, seemingly viewing his “extreme” ascetic practice as resulting in a parodying of this ideal. Of the other extreme—whether historical or not—Jerome is scathing in his derision and implications regarding what this new means of comporting his body implies for his opponent’s character. Jerome also contends that the amount of followers Jovinianus has should not be taken as any evidence of the veracity of his teachings but rather an indication of the quality of his followers: “If many assent to your views, that only indicates voluptuousness; for they do not so much approve of your utterances as favour their own vices . . . And do you regard it as a mark of great wisdom if you have a following of many pigs, whom you are feeding to make pork for hell?”143 Very few scholars have commented on this passage in any depth, although Elizabeth A.  Clark offers a reading of the implications that Jerome is evoking. Her assessment of Jerome’s characterization of Jovinianus’s followers is potentially enlightening and is discussed below, but her understanding of the portrait of Jovinianus himself is somewhat problematic. She rather erroneously conflates the description of Jovinianus himself with that of his followers. Suggesting that the ruddy cheeks are applicable to his followers, not Jovinianus himself, Clark remarks of this group that their “elegant coiffure and ruddy cheeks signal to Jerome their porcine status:  Jovinianus (Jerome concludes) must be feeding these ‘pigs’ to make pork for hell!”144 Yet Jerome is clear in assigning nature, demonstrable in the change in how he comports and cultivates his body. Thus, while it may seem as though the changing nature of Jovinianus’s physicality would not lend itself to physiognomic scrutiny, Jerome views this change in and of itself as revealing his changing and fickle character, and his more recent physicality, to reflect a lifestyle of overindulgence and by extension a negative character. 142. Jov. 2.21 (NPNF2 6:404). 143. Jov. 2.36 (NPNF2 6:414). 144.  Elizabeth A. Clark, “Dissuading from Marriage: Jerome and the Asceticization of Satire,” in Satiric Advice on Women and Marriage: From Plautus to Chaucer, ed. Warren S. Smith (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2005), 163.

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the ruddy cheeks to Jovinianus himself, and thus while this characteristic may have been deemed pig-like (though I  cannot find ancient attestation of this), it is unlikely that an elegant hairstyle would correspond to an understanding of porcine nature—indeed, quite the opposite as pigs were typically understood as wallowing in mud145 and thus presumably indifferent to the fineries of physical appearance. Thus, for Clark, the depiction of Jovinianus does not include the red cheeks, and her application of these to his followers with her concluding assertion that such cheeks are meant to indicate pig-ness is problematic.146 In ancient physiognomic thought, ruddy cheeks could have both positive and negative connotations, and there was a fairly wide range of the specifics they could indicate. In a positive sense, a ruddy cheek could indicate a maidenly modest blush or a youth of robust composition. It is unlikely that Jerome means praise in his use of the term, and a youth of good physical composition is unlikely to possess the excessive corpulence that Jerome ascribes to Jovinianus. Thus, perhaps a better understanding of these ruddy cheeks is the thought that these indicate an individual who imbibed too much liquor.147 Adamantius asserts that “faces that are red by themselves show bashful men. If only the cheeks are red, say they are drunkards.”148 However, Jerome could also potentially be referencing the image of a woman out on the sexual prowl. He refers to such women as having “ruddy cheeks” [rubentibus buccis] and plump bodies.149 Of course, this could also be another of Jerome’s allusions to Greco-Roman comedy, where a courtesan in Plautus’s Truculentus is described as having created ruddy cheeks [buccas rubrica] by applying cosmetics.150 If so, then this would also potentially align well with Jerome’s depictions of Jovinianus as effeminate, discussed further below.

145. For example, see the Galen citation above. 146.  In this chapter, Clark also perhaps erroneously attributes Jerome’s reference to Jovinianus as a pig, citing letter 50 (discussed above). While this is understandable given that in this letter he does not name his opponent but does refer to swine there and in this description of Jovinianus’s followers, Jerome is fairly liberal with his designation of his opponents as pigs, or “grunters,” and thus he does not need to have the same people in mind in both of these instances. 147.  This perhaps finds further support in Jerome’s reference to “extremes of dress and mode of life,” and that part of the rejection of an ascetic life would most likely include the consumption of alcohol. Later in this work, Jerome characterizes Jovinianus’s teaching as allowing for “the drunkard and the glutton” (2.37 [NPNF2 6:415]) to enter paradise, so it seems reasonable that the consumption of alcohol is what he has in mind in this description of red cheeks. 148. Physiogn. B35; Polemo, 38. 149. Epist. 22.16. 150.  Truc. 274. Jerome also cautions young virgins against associating with “fair and ruddy” footmen (Epist. 57.13). This, however, is a combination of reddish and pale skin, which was thought to be the ideal complexion in antiquity.

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The importance of gait and the scrutiny it received has been discussed above, and here it is worth noting that the “strutting (dressed) like an exquisite [incedis ornatus]” that Jerome attributes to Jovinianus is perhaps a reference to Aesop’s fable of the crow who dresses up in plumage to try to fit in with the attractive crowd (which he makes references to elsewhere). This would cohere well with the idea of his changing nature reflected in his appearance, going from plain and dowdy to flashy and opulent, and attempt to appeal to a group of people who are interested in physical indulgences. Of course, the crow’s real physicality is eventually revealed, and he is stripped of his feathers. Similarly, in stating that his shoulders are elevated, this is also perhaps meant to indicate an arrogant gait or posture. Ornamented shoes, silks, and linen are clear examples of indulgent dressing, tending toward the effeminate.151 Smooth skin is noted by Barton as being common indications of effeminacy.152 Indeed, smooth skin seems to be in large part one of the attributes of a beautiful woman. Kelly Olson notes several instances where women are praised for their smooth skin along with instances of recommended creams and ointments to aid in this.153 As Olson observes, maintaining such sleek (or “flawless”) skin must have required some effort, and indeed these ointment regiments attest to this. As such, here Jerome seems to be implying that Jovinianus and his followers invest too much time or are “womanish” in their care for their external appearances. If Jerome, however, means “smooth” skin in the sense of depilation, then this too has implications of effeminacy. Juvenal queries as to why the now cast off client Naevolous has let himself go, no longer maintaining his elaborate and effeminate appearance: “you skin has lost that gloss [nullus tota nitor in cute] produced by depilating it with heated Bruttian pitch. And your legs, too, neglected, dark with sprouting hair.”154 However, other potential implications aside, it is clear that Jerome deems a sleek complexion to be indicative of moral wrong doing. In letter 117, he plainly states that “shining skin shows a sin-stained soul [nitens cutis sordidum ostentat animum].”155 In his letter 128, he again links ruddy cheeks, glowing skin, and fine clothes with a life of indulgence and implies that the rhetorical person involved is contemplating sexual intercourse with his female slaves: “Why should you find pleasure in a young girl, pretty, and voluptuous? You frequent the baths, walk

151. For one example, Plutarch associates “gilded shoes” and jewelry with the items that women wear outside of the home to impress others (Sarah B. Pomeroy, ed., Plutarch’s Advice to the Bride and Groom, and a Consolation to His Wife: English Translations, Commentary, Interpretations, Essays, and Bibliography [New York: Oxford University Press, 1999], 30). 152. Barton, Power and Knowledge, 116. 153.  Kelly Olson, Dress and the Roman Woman: Self-Presentation and Society (Oxford; New York: Routledge, 2008). 154.  Sat. 9.12 (Ramsay, LCL). For further discussion on the removal of male hair as being potentially effeminate, please see the following chapter. 155. Epist. 117.6 (NPNF2 6:218).

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abroad sleek [cute nitida] and ruddy, eat flesh, abound in riches, and wear the most expensive clothes; and yet you fancy that you can sleep safely beside a deathdealing serpent.”156 Regarding Jovinianus’s protruding belly, Hagendhal notes that this is a reference to Perseus’s Satire 1.57 where he insults his antagonist as having this same sort of stomach. As noted above regarding Pelagius, perceived excessive corpulence came with negative evaluations of character, and for Jerome in particular in view of his exhortation to an ascetic lifestyle. The same, of course, can likely be said of Jovinianus’s purportedly fat neck. Jerome takes up his theme of too much concern for physical indulgences again in his depiction of Jovinianus’s disciples. He remarks that “on your side are the fat and sleek in their festival attire . . . If I ever see a fine fellow, or a man who is no stranger to the curling irons, with his hair nicely done and his cheeks all aglow, he belongs to your heard, or rather grunts in concert with your pigs.”157 Clark understands Jerome’s characterization of Jovinianus’s followers as that of the stock figure of the parasite in Greco-Roman comedy.158 Yet more can be said on the subject in view of the different “types” of parasites that were portrayed. Often these figures were portrayed as being in financial straits,159 but also wellattested is the opposite. Catherine Saunders notes that Gnatho in Terrence is “a type of the sleek, prosperous and well-dressed parasite,” citing Eun. 232 and 25 3.160 Similarly, Sean Corner suggests that gluttony and addiction to luxurious eating are as prominent as poverty in the characterization of many comedic parasites, and though the figures may not be wealthy, their choice of parasitism is ultimately that—a choice.161 That is, in the plays it is not poverty that prompts these parasitic actions but rather greed and a desire for a higher mode of life than actually working

156. Epist. 128.3 (NPNF2 6:259). 157.  Jov. 2.36. It is here that he contrasts the physicality (and by extension morality) of the Christians in line with his own thought, who are pale and disheveled, noted above. 158.  Clark, Dissuading from Marriage, 163. This is certainly the case in speaking of Pelagius’s followers, in letter 60.4, not discussed by Clark:  “as I  have a flock of disciples, he may have one also—flatterers and parasites worthy of the Gnatho and Phormio who is their master.” As Wiessen observes, “the orthodox speaker in Jerome’s work has a penchant for applying lines from Roman comedy to his opponent” (David S. Wiessen, St. Jerome as a Satirist: A Study in Christian Latin Thought and Letters [Ithaca, N.Y.:  Cornell University Press, 1964]). 159.  As Cynthia Damon observes, often in Greco-Roman comedy the parasite is portrayed as poor, to heighten the idea of his dependency on the meals of his patron, and she cites Plautus Capt. 172–75; Cure. 144; Men. 106 and 665; Persa. 120; and Stich. 177. Cynthia Damon, The Mask of the Parasite: A Pathology of Roman Patronage (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1997), 28 n. 17. 160. Catherine Saunders, Costume in Roman Comedy (New York: Columbia University Press, 1909), 86. For further discussion, see pp. 86–90. 161. Sean Corner, “The Politics of the Parasite (Part One),” Phoenix 67 (2013): 43–80.

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for a living would provide for. As Sean Corner remarks, “the parasite pursues his profession [of being a parasite] not to live but to live the high life, at somebody else’s expense.”162 Regarding the curly hair, as Barton observes, males who curled their hair and had glowing skin were thought to be effeminate dandies.163 Cicero offers but one example of this, attacking an opponent’s male dignity, citing “the odor of that man’s perfumes, . . . his breath reeking with wine, . . . his forehead scared from a curling iron?”164 Plautus also links curled hair with effeminacy: “Who would believe you, you curly-haired cinaedus?”165 Craig Williams cites Martial 2.36 as an example of a cautioning between effeminacy and excessive attempts at masculinity. Martial states that I would not have you curl your hair, nor yet would I  have you throw it into disorder. Your skin I would have neither over-sleek nor neglected. Your beard should be neither that of an effeminate Asiatic, nor that of an accused person. I alike detest, Pannicus, one who is more, and one who is less than a man. Your legs and breast bristle with shaggy hair; but your mind, Pannicus, shows no sign of manliness. (Martial, Epigrams, 2.36)

Williams summarizes this aptly: “insufficient masculinity is shown by artificially curled hair, skin treated with the finest cosmetics.”166 For Jerome, it is evident that Jovinianus, along with his followers, is found wanting in masculinity and moral character, as is evidenced by their physical appearance and comportment.

The Apostate Members of Ambrose’s Clerical Community While not explicitly designated as heretics, Ambrose comments on a fellow clergy man and one whom he barred from entering the clergy based solely on a physiognomic evaluation of their gaits, who subsequently proved the truth of his conclusions167 by becoming apostates. Ambrose writes, You will recall, my sons, a certain friend of ours. He appeared to commend himself by carrying out his duties with due care, yet I still refused to admit

162. Ibid., 57. 163. Barton, Power and Knowledge, 116. 164. Red. Sen. 7 (Watts, LCL). 165. Asin. 627 (de Melo, LCL). 166.  Craig A. Williams, Roman Homosexuality (Oxford; New York:  Oxford University Press, 2010), 143. 167. Or perhaps he deduced this in hindsight but preferred to present himself with this diagnostic ability.

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Reading Bodies him to the body of the clergy. I  had one reason only, and it was this:  he carried himself physically in a way that was totally unseemly (quodgestus eiusplurimum dedeceret). You will recall another man, too. He was already a member of the clergy when I first encountered him, but I issued instructions that he was never to walk in front of me, for the cocky way in which he walked (insolentis incessus) was—to be frank—painful for me to behold. I  had no other reason but this to reject these men; but I  did not prove mistaken in my judgement, for both of them went on to leave the church:  they showed themselves to be every bit as faithless in spirit as their style of walking had suggested. One deserted the faith at the time of the Arian onslaught; the other was so keen on money that he was prepared to say he was not one of us, so as to escape being judged by his bishop. The hallmark of fickleness inside these men was plain in the way they walked—they had all the appearance of wandering jesters (lucebat in illorum incessu imago levitatis, species quaedam scurrarum percursantium).168

For Ambrose, the respective gaits of these men were sufficient to prove their character failings, and he further employs these to demonstrate or prove to his readers the outsider status of the apostates. Chad Hartsock has addressed this passage in detail and suggests that what was objectionable to Ambrose in these gaits was a tendency toward effeminacy.169 While he is no doubt correct in this assessment, Hartsock could have found broader evidence to support this conclusion from material beyond the physiognomic manuals, where an effeminate gait is a widespread phenomenon to indicate moral shortcomings.170

Julian (the So-Called Apostate) Gregory of Nazianzus composed two orations (Orations Four and Five) against Julian the apostate emperor, and these and aspects of other works attest to the vitriolic hatred the bishop had for the ruler.171 According to Jerome, Gregory 168.  Off. 1.18.72 (Ambrose. De officiis ministorum, in Ambrose: De Officiis Edited with an Introduction, Translation, and Commentary, trans. Ivor J.  Davidson [Oxford:  Oxford University Press, 2001]). 169.  Chad Hartsock, Sight and Blindness in Luke-Acts the Use of Physical Features in Characterization (Leiden; Boston:  Brill, 2008), 135–42. Parsons also briefly discusses Ambrose and his physiognomic exhortations (Mikeal Carl Parsons, Body and Character in Luke and Acts:  The Subversion of Physiognomy in Early Christianity [Grand Rapids, Mich.: Baker Academic, 2006], 59–61). 170.  For further discussion on the appropriate type of walk Ambrose advises—in part by comparison with a more detailed stipulation of the kind of gait not to have—see the following chapter. 171.  For example, he begins this oration by designating Julian as “the Dragon, the Apostate, the Great Mind, the Assyrian, the public and private enemy of all in common, him

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was familiar with Polemo’s writings, and presumably this included knowledge of his physiognomic approach.172 Gregory is perhaps the most explicit early Christian author in acknowledging the physiognomic underpinnings of his physical description. Immediately preceding his description of Julian’s physical appearance, he relates that he had already detected Julian’s negative character traits via observation of his physicality. Gregory writes, [Julian’s negative character] had previously been detected by some; ever since I lived with this person in Athens . . . At that time, therefore, I remember that I became no bad judge of his character, though far from being of much sagacity in that line . . . A sign of no good seemed to me to be his unsteady neck [αὐχὴν ἀπαγὴς], his shoulders always in motion and shrugging up and down like a pair of scales, his eyes rolling and glancing from side to side [ὀφθαλμὸς σοβούμενος καὶ περιφερόμενος] with a certain insane expression, his feet unsteady and stumbling [πόδες ἀστατοῦντες καὶ μετοκλάζοντες], his nostrils breathing insolence and disdain, the gestures of his face ridiculous and expressing the same feelings, his bursts of laugher unrestrained and gusty, his nods of assent and dissent without any reason, his speech stopping short and interrupted by his taking breath, his questions without any order and unintelligent, his answers not a whit better than his questions, following one on top of the other.173

After this description Gregory asserts that “I saw the man before his actions exactly what I afterwards found in his actions; and were any present of those who were then with me and heard my words, they would without hesitation bear testimony to what I say; to whom I exclaimed as soon as I had observed these signs, ‘What an evil the Roman world is breeding!’ ”174 Glen Warren Bowerstock posits that Gregory’s description of the physicality of Julian was “not a friendly portrait, but the accuracy of its outlines is not in doubt. A sycophant like the consul Mamertinus singled out some of the same features for a more flattering treatment.”175 While it does seem likely that there was some

that has madly raged and threatened much upon earth, and that has spoken and mediated much unrighteousness against Heaven!” (Orat. 4.1 in Julian the Emperor, trans. C. W. King [London: George Bell and Sons, 1881]). 172.  Jerome writes favorably of Gregory, noting that he was his former student, calling him “a most eloquent man” and noting that “he was a follower of Polemo in his style of speaking” (De Viris Illustribus, 117). 173. Orat. 5.23. 174.  Orat. 5.24. Utilizing physiognomy to underscore an emperor’s unfitness to rule or denigrate moral character had a precedent in other ancient authors. To cite but one example, see Hartsock’s discussion of Suetonius’s description of Caligula (Hartsock, Sight and Blindness, 38–39). 175.  Glen Warren Bowerstock, Julian the Apostate (Cambridge, Mass.:  Harvard University Press, 1987), 12. While the extent to which descriptions of these same features

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sort of historical basis for Gregory’s description for him to draw on and exploit,176 given that he thought it important to highlight these in addition to his assertions about discerning Julian’s character by his physicalities suggests that this is not, as Bowerstock implies, a historically accurate and thus rhetorically disinterested account.177 Indeed, R. Asmus undertook a physiognomic reading of this text based solely on the manuals in the early 1900s, concluding that this portrait was that of a worthless person. He suggests that the unsteady neck indicates an evil nature, his jerking shoulders arrogance, his frenzied eyes demon possession, his unstable feet madness and effeminacy, and his laughter indicating shamelessness.178 And while Asmus is correct in his approach, his method is somewhat problematic in that he relies solely on the manuals to arrive at this understanding, and, as argued above, often times a broader spectrum of ideas commonly attested is more helpful to uncover what an author is implying. An unsteady neck is presumably one that bends or flops from side to side or at any rate does not keep the head upright with sufficient stability. The idea of an unsteady neck as indicative of negative character traits—in particular effeminacy— is a fairly widespread one in ancient physiognomic thought. Cicero offers advice on the physical deportment of the elite male, and the orator in particular, asserting that “there should be no effeminate bending of the neck, no twiddling of the fingers, no marking the rhythm with the finger joint. He will control himself by the pose of his whole frame, and the vigorous and manly attitude of the body.”179 In addition to keeping a steady neck, Cicero also stresses an economy of movement, exhorting “let nothing be superfluous.”180 Quintilian likewise stresses that the neck must be straight, not stiff or bent backward.181 Ps.-Aristotle deems a head inclined to the right to be one of the physical indications of the kinaedos,182 and following these both the Latin manual and Polemo include a tilted head in their profiles of the cinaedus.183 A comic fragment by Archippos mocks Alcibiades the younger for imitating his father’s comportment in typically effeminate ways, including a lisp,

that are addressed are similar is questionable, here is another good example of the subjectivity inherent in this enterprise and the degree of creative control that an author could employ. 176.  And similarly, drawn on to exploit in a positive manner, again reinforcing the subjectivity of ancient physiognomy. 177.  Peter Brown, Power and Persuasion in Late Antiquity: Towards a Christian Empire (Madison:  University of Wisconsin Press, 1992), 59–60, also notes that physiognomic thought is at work here, as does Evans (“Physiognomics in the Ancient World,” 74), although neither goes into to specifics. 178. R. Asmus, “Vergessene Physionomonika,” Philologus 65 (1906): 410–15. 179. De orat. 18.59 (Rackham, LCL). 180. Ibid. 181. Inst. 11.82. 182. Ps.-Aristotle, Physiogn., 808a. Along with casting his eyes about him. 183. Polemo also includes in this list a fluid gait in which no part of the body holds still.

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mincing gait, and “inclining his neck to one side.”184 Dio Chrysostom provides a list of physical signs that indicate effeminacy, including “inclination of the neck.”185 Jan Bremmer notes that according to the poet Theognis, “the heads of slaves were never straight but always crooked and their necks oblique, the terms ‘straight’ and ‘crooked’ being not only used in a physical but also, as is so often the case, in a moral sense.”186 As discussed above, there was a link between slaves and deficient masculinity in ancient thought. The constantly in motion and shrugging shoulders Gregory attributes to Julian are rather rare in ancient sources, although Quintilian does advise that it is “as a rule, unbecoming to raise or contract the shoulders, for it shortens the neck and produces a mean and servile gesture.”187 Gregory’s description of Julian glancing from side to side is perhaps best understood as a shifty gaze or a shifting of the eyes. Seneca counts the “shifting of his eyes” as one of the signs that reveals the sexually impure man.188 Bremmer notes that given that rolling eyes denoted a madman and “looking around” indicated the passive homosexual, “we may safely assume that a ‘proper’ male looked steadfastly at the world.”189 The anonymous Latin manual includes the rolling of the eyes—as well as the clumsy and confused carriage of the feet— as among the signs that reveal the effeminate subject.190 By contrast Athanasius notes that Anthony’s eyes did not roll about, and he did not have restless and shifting feet, but his body was well-ordered [μὴ ὀφθαλμῷ ῥέμβεσθαι, μὴ μετοκ

184. Fr. 48 K-A; also cited by Julia P. Shapiro, Speaking Bodies: Physiognomic Consciousness and Oratorical Strategy in 4th Century Athens (PhD diss., University of Michigan, 2011), 78. She also cites Clement’s mention of holding one’s neck awry and Aeschines’ reference to the same gesture. 185. 1 Tars. 33.53 (Cohoon, LCL). 186. Bremmer, “Walking,” 15–35, 23. 187. Inst. 11.6.83. 188. Epist. 52.12 (Gummere, LCL). That he means effeminacy as the impurity he implies is suggested by his inclusion of scratching the head with one finger, which is a frequent “indication” of the effeminate male for numerous authors in antiquity (see Corbeill’s discussion on this, Controlling Laughter, 164–65). As I noted previously, I do not mean to suggest that homosexuality was deemed to be “the” indicator of effeminacy in the ancient world as it is frequently understood in contemporary culture. However, in many instances, the concepts of passive homosexual and effeminacy are linked in ancient thought, though not to the exclusion of a host of various other actions and traits. 189.  Bremmer, “Walking,” 23. For rolling eyes as also indicative of a drunken state— probably not applicable in this instance—please see the following chapter. 190.  Anon. Lat. 54. Moreover, the author prefaces this with the assertion that those who try to “make their neck stiff ” will do so in vain, as the above signs will reveal the effeminacy of the subject. While it is not necessitated by this assertion, this does perhaps allow for an understanding of the subject attempting to correct or conceal an (effeminate) unsteady neck.

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λάζειν πόδας, ἀλλ‘ ἐν κόσμῳ καὶ θείῳ τινὶ παρισταμένους σεβάσματι, ἀκλινεῖς τὸ σῶμα, ἀκλινεῖς τὸ πνεῦμα].191 The Greek used to describe Julian’s legs and gait indicates “never at rest” and “keep changing one leg to another.” The later verb is relatively rare, but it does appear in the Iliad to depict a coward: “The color of the coward ever changes to another hue, nor is the spirit in his breast stayed that he should abide steadfast, but he shifts from knee to knee and rests on either foot [μετοκλάζει], and his heart beats loudly in his breast as he bodeth death, and the teeth chatter in his mouth.”192 Given the relative rarity of the word, it is possible that here Gregory is perhaps evoking this passage, implying that Julian lacked masculine valor. That Gregory did likely view Julian as a coward is attested in Orat. 5.8, where he accuses him of confusing bravery with rashness in his military exploits. Another possible interpretation, however, is perhaps more likely or at least also at work in Gregory’s thought. Given that a well-ordered gait was thought to be of utmost importance for the elite male and in turn for physiognomic scrutiny, in depicting Julian as the opposite of well-ordered Gregory is undermining his masculine self-control in one of the most significant avenues for assessing it. This finds potential support in another instance of this verb, in Athanasius’s Vit. Ant. cited above in conjunction with steady eyes. Nostrils that breathe insolence are, for the most part, readily intelligible, but it is perhaps relevant to note the censure placed on noises pertaining to nostrils in antiquity. Quintilian remarks that “it is not often that the lips or nostrils can be becomingly employed to express our feeling, although they are often used to indicate derision, contempt or loathing . . . [to] snort through them with a sudden expulsion of the breath . . . [is] indecorous.”193 Similarly, little needs to be said about the “ridiculous facial gestures,” and what these consisted of is, unfortunately, now left to the imagination. Regarding the immoderate and uncontrolled laughter, early Christians have decided opinions on the negative character traits it reveals in the subject.194 Clement of Alexandria cautions that “even laughter must be kept in check; for when given vent to in the right manner it indicates orderliness, but when it issues differently it shows a want of restraint.”195 And while Basil’s advice on the matter is found in his Rules for ascetic monks (and thus perhaps is a stricter view than that

191. Vita Anti. 84.21. 192. II. 13. 279–280 (Murry, LCL). 193. Orat. 11.80. 194. Presumably non-Christians likewise shared this value, but this is not as well attested in the primary sources. Ingvild Saelid Gilhus, however, proposes that Clement’s view of laughter was reminiscent of Roman and Greek philosophy, in particular the Stoics, in the encouragement of restraint (Laughing Gods, Weeping Virgins:  Laughter in the History of Religions [London:  Reaktion Books, 1995], 61–62). See the following chapter for further discussion on this topic. 195. Paed. 2.5 (ANF 2:249).

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he would offer to the layperson), he also associates unrestrained or immoderate laughter with deficient self-control:  “for to be overcome by incontinent and immoderate laughter is a mark of incontinence and shows that a man has not his emotions under control . . . but to shout with loud laughter, and allow the body to shake involuntarily, does not befit one who has his soul under control, or is of proved virtue, or has command of himself.”196 Self-control, of course, was one of the cardinal virtues of elite Roman males. The way Gregory depicts Julian’s nodding head without reason, and speech that lacks order, also indicates a deficiency of self-control, again via an important avenue for assessing masculine dignitas. This finds potential parallel with Seneca’s description of the madman (restless hands, violent breathing) and the angry man whose “breathing is forced and harsh . . . bursts out speech with scarcely intelligible words, strikes his hands together continually, and stamps the ground with his feet.”197 A madman or an angry man is also not able to control his body, and thus likewise this suggests being unfit to rule. However, putting aside for the moment the potential interpretation for each specific physical attribute, the composite portrait produced when these are all viewed together is itself significant: Julian is unable to control his body in an orderly fashion and equally unable to control his speech. He cannot control his neck, his shoulders, his feet, his eyes, or his laughter. In verbal exchanges, he cannot control his body’s response (in the nodding of assent and dissent without reason), and he lacks the control to craft his speech so that it proceeds in an orderly and logical way. As noted above, self-control of body indicated that the elite man was fit to rule, and control of speech was also a mark of the elite roman male. For Gregory, it was empirically observable and physically demonstrable that Julian was not—and never had been— fit to rule. This is in striking contrast to his assertions regarding Julian’s successor, whom Gregory describes as “a man illustrious in all other respects as well as for piety, and in personal appearance truly fitted for sovereignty.”198

Conclusions Capitalizing on an opponent’s perceived (or perhaps exaggerated or even invented) physical shortcomings allowed early Christian authors engaged in the activity of delegitimizing the heretic or apostate further persuasive traction. Rather than relying solely on arguments drawn from scripture or other even more subjective methodologies, physiognomic polemic was thought to allow for a more (purportedly) objective means of undermining the character of one’s opponent. As a component

196.  Rule 8, 132–35; translation taken from Evans, “Physiognomics in the Ancient World,” 78–79). Basil does, however, allow for a “cheerful smile” to reveal merriment (Evans, “Physiognomics in the Ancient World,” 78). 197. De Ira 1.1.3-4. 198. Orat. 5.15.

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of persuasion, this perceived benefit held particular appeal in an otherwise rather subjective enterprise. Moreover, given physiognomy’s perceived ties to intellectual undertakings, the use of it simultaneously demonstrated the author’s own superior intelligence and keen analysis. In the hetero-orthodox discourse that lacked substantive and universally agreed-upon definitions of these terms, the appeal to physiognomy with its purported access to objective and universal truth made it a valuable component of persuasion. The empirical evidence that these heretics did not belong to an author’s orthodox group, had deplorable moral character, and were fit only to persuade the foolish was attested by their bodies.

Chapter 3 T H E P H YSIO G N OM Y O F T H E ( I D E A L ) E A R LY C H R I ST IA N

Scholarship has frequently addressed the varied rhetorical strategies that early Christians employed in sculpting self-identity, frequently over and against a group or groups of “others,” where early Christians sought to exaggerate the differences between them, positing their group as decidedly superior. The previous chapter examined physiognomic invective against “insiders” who other early Christian authors wanted to demarcate as “outsiders.” The attempts at persuasive rhetoric to highlight early Christian groups as superior to their pagan contemporaries have also received significant scholarly attention,1 although without utilizing a physiognomic lens of interpretation. Physiognomy was also often employed in encomium, to praise an individual (or groups of individuals) as morally superior, evidenced in their physically superior physiques. As previously addressed, Gleason and Van Houdt have discussed the role that physiognomic thought played in the rhetoric of self-presentation in antiquity. On the role of physiognomic self-fashioning to present to observers, Gleason speaks of “complex business of self-presentation, in which conscious choices interact with instinctive responses to traditional paradigms to produce a carefully modulate public identity.”2 And Van Houdt, although speaking about the physiognomic manuals in particular rather than broader physiognomic consensus, suggests that the “handbooks offered lengthy lists of bodily characteristics that were indicative of moral excellence or depravity. As consequence, they easily lent themselves for exploitation by Roman aristocrats eager to mould their body

1.  See, for example, Peter Brown, The Body and Society:  Men, Women, and Sexual Renunciation in Early Christianity (Columbia, S.C.:  Columbia University Press, 1988).; Averil Cameron, Christianity and the Rhetoric of Empire:  The Development of Christian Discourse (Sather Lecture Series 55; Berkeley :  University of California Press, 2001); Maijastina Kahlos, Debate and Dialogue:  Christian and Pagan Cultures, c.  360–430 (Aldershot: Ashgate Press, 2007). 2.  Maud W. Gleason, Making Men:  Sophists and Self-Presentation in Ancient Rome (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1995), ccvi.

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language in such a way as to make a good impression on others. What first seemed to be merely an analytical tool . . . thus became a social instrument.”3 What has been less frequently addressed is the interplay between these two topics: the role that physiognomic thought played in these early Christian groups’ rhetoric of self-definition, self-presentation, and their claims of superiority over their contemporaries as a component of persuasion to visually demonstrate this superiority.4 Many early Christians were not terribly different from their contemporaries in their employment of physiognomic thought, and thus we should not be surprised to encounter prescriptions for self-comportment predicated on physiognomic principles as part of this rhetorical strategy. Nonetheless, this has gone predominantly underaddressed in early Christian scholarship. However, some aspects of Kristi Upson-Saia’s arguments regarding early Christian discourse on female ascetic dress are applicable to early Christian physiognomy, both being concerned with cultivating appearances as a component of self-identity that distinguishes the person as distinct from and superior to their contemporaries in ways that were visually apparent. She observes that “[l]ike their pagan predecessors, Christians also used physical appearances as a measure of morality and identity, hoping that the looks of certain Christians might secure honor for their Christian community.”5 While again speaking of dress, Upson-Saia’s assertion that one of the aims of prescriptive exhortations was that “Christian’s physical appearance could ultimately signify the group’s superior morality on its own”6 is equally applicable to physiognomic prescriptive. 3.  Toon Van Houdt, “Speaking Eyes, Concealing Tongues:  Social Function of Physiognomics in the Early Roman Empire,” in Sprakets Speglingar:  Festskrift till Birger Bergh /Red (Angelholm: Skaneforl, 2000), 639. 4. Teresa M. Shaw does address this, although referring to the process by the very similar concept of askesis (“Askesis and the Appearance of Holiness,” JECS 6 [1998]: 485–99). Alberto J. Quiroga Puertas also discusses the role that physical comportment (conceiving this as actio) played in the self-presentation and the making of orthodoxy (Alberto J. Quiroga, “Preaching and Mesmerizing: The Resolution of Religious Conflicts in Late Antiquity,” in The Role of the Bishop in Late Antiquity, ed. Andrew Fear, Mar Marcos, and Jose Ferdinez [Ubina; New York:  Bloomsbury, 2013]). He states that “the concern of Christian authors of the Latin west over regulating gestures, voice and clothing involved in their preaching must be studied as efforts to integrate the performative facet of Late Antique rhetoric into religious orthodoxy” (Quiroga, “Preaching and Mesmerizing,” 199–200). While he is correct in that many of the examples regarding this does occur in instances of preaching, many of them also seem to be regarding bodily comportment in day-to-day life, as many of the examples below seem to indicate (in particular regarding ascetic women who are presumably not preaching given that, in many instances, they are being commanded to keep silent). 5.  Kristi Upson-Saia, Early Christian Dress:  Gender, Virtue, and Authority (Routledge Studies in Ancient History, 3; New York; London: Routledge, 2011), 32. 6. Upson-Saia, Early Christian Dress, 36.

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Upson-Saia has demonstrated that early Christians were conscious of the physical appearance they presented to outsiders and in turn cultivated these to achieve their desired persuasive effect. The following will argue that some early Christian authors held that the physical appearance extended to the physiognomic realm in the cultivation and presentation of the physical appearance of their members.7 Several of the early Christian authors who have been shown to operate with a physiognomic mindset also provide evidence of themselves or their community members having been subject to (or at least aware of the potential of) physiognomic scrutiny of their pagan detractors. Although speaking of the attire of Christian female virgins (and thus not physiognomic comportment per se), Tertullian evinces concern regarding how they might appear to outsiders: “provision must be made in every way against all immodest associations and suspicions. For why is the integrity of a chaste mind defiled by its neighbour’s suspicion?”8 Clement, in discussing the ignoble physical behaviors that result from overimbibing, remarks that “it is well to make ourselves acquainted with this picture at the greatest possible distance from it, and to frame ourselves to what is better, dreaded lest well also become a like spectacle and laughing-stock to others.”9 In a discussion on gestures and bodily movements that he deems unfit, Clement assert that “[i]n a word, the Christian is characterized by composure, tranquility, calmness, and peace,” making clear that he envisions a physiognomic model that Christians should maintain even when (or perhaps especially when) they engage with those outside the Christian community.10 He criticizes those who do not conform to the purportedly distinct Christian physiognomy he envisions, noting the influence of outsiders on the “fashions and manners” when Christian individuals interact with broader society: “laying aside the inspiration of the assembly, after their departure from it, they become like others with whom they associate.”11 And Jerome speaks of the perceived physical scrutiny felt by Christians by pagan observers, including physiognomic concerns such as the expression of emotion, asserting that “we are held to be monks if we refuse to dress in silk. We are called sour and severe if we keep sober and refrain from excessive laughter. The mob salutes us as Greeks and imposters if our tunics are fresh and clean. They may deal in still severer witticisms if they please; they may parade every fat paunch they can lay hold of, to turn us into ridicule.”12 This lends support to my contention that they are attempting to fashion an appropriate physiognomy of early Christians that meets with—or 7.  And also, of course, to provide positive role models for other members to emulate, although this is not the focus of this chapter. 8. Cult. fem. 2.12 (ANF 4:24–25). 9. Paed. 2.2 (ANF 2: 244). It is clear that he envisions these practices occurring at feasts that include outsiders, “fellow-guests” that members should attempt to “persuade . . . to virtue” (Paed. 2.1 [ANF 2:240]). 10. Paed. 2.7 (ANF 2:253). 11. Paed. 2.11 (ANF 2:290). 12.  Epist. 38.5, previously cited. That Jerome views this mob as consisting of nonChristians is supported by his similar use of the phrase in Epist. 54.4: “the moment they

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ideally exceeds—the approval of pagan critics in order to persuade outsiders of the superior morality of members of their group. The exhortations of these authors predominantly align with broader, non-Christian physiognomic thought, although in some instances, particularly those pertaining to women, they seem to take these ideals to an extreme, a way of upping the ante for external observers. For males, there is a concern for demonstrating masculinity and avoiding effeminacy,13 and for women there is a concern for evidencing chastity and modesty. The following will examine physiognomic exhortations made with the goal of persuading outsiders of the superiority of the early church members via their physical cultivation and comportment, and by extension early Christianity itself.14 It will address representative (but not exhaustive) examples found in the authors previously addressed who have been shown to operate with a physiognomic consciousness. For the most part, I  leave aside the issue of physical adornment and clothing, which has been already excellently addressed by Upson-Saia and numerous others,15 and focus instead on exhortations regarding anatomical modifications. I have divided different physiognomic exhortation into subsections and will address these in turn. I have also divided this chapter by class, addressing physiognomic exhortations for lay Christian males previous to exhortations for male ascetics or clergy, and then address women, primarily ascetic women (as these comprised the bulk of my findings). Each of these subgroups proceed by examining a given physiological trait. Admittedly, the material is much more heavily skewed toward advice for ascetics or clergy, and thus the section on lay persons is rather sparse; nonetheless, I felt it was important to make this distinction. One of the potential implications of this imbalance is that perhaps this provides evidence that early Christians who held themselves to a more exacting

see a Christian they at once repeat the hackneyed saying ‘The Greek! The imposter!’ They spread the most scandalous reports . . . raving and carping at Christians with insane fury.” 13. Clement, for example, broadly asserts that “a true gentleman must have no mark of effeminacy visible on his face, or any other part of his body. Let no blot on his manliness, then, be ever found either in his movements or habits” (Paed. 3.11 [ANF 2:289]). 14.  This is not to suggest that there are not a host of other issues at work behind these exhortations, but I  leave these aside to maintain a focus on the physiognomic import of these. 15.  See also Carly Daniel-Hughes The Salvation of the Flesh in Tertullian of Carthage (New  York:  Palgrave MacMillan, 2011); Alicia Batten, “Neither Gold nor Braided Hair (1 Timothy 2:9; 1 Peter 3:3):  Adornment, Gender and Honour in Antiquity,” NTS 55 (2009): 484–501; Elizabeth Bartman, “Hair and the Artifice of Roman Female Adornment,” AJA 105 (2001): 1–25; Leslie Shumka, “Designing Women: The Representation of Women’s Toiletries on Funerary Monuments in Roman Italy,” in Roman Dress and the Fabrics of Roman Culture, ed. Jonathan Edmondson and Alison Keith (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2008), 172–91; Erin Vearncombe, “Adorning the Protagonist:  The Use of Dress in the Book of Judith,” in Dressing Jews and Christians in Antiquity, ed. Carly Daniel- Hughes, Alicia Batten, and Kristi Upson-Saia (Surrey : Ashgate, 2014), 117–36.

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standard were expected to reflect this to outsiders and potential critics. Although this is the first time in this work that women (and not just the trait of effeminacy) have entered the physiognomic discussion, ultimately this still predominantly is a discourse by men and for men, as will be made clear below.

Physiognomic Exhortations for the Male Early Christian Layperson In physiognomic exhortations regarding bodily cultivation and comportment for male early Christians, the instructions cover a fairly broad spectrum of common physiognomic topoi. While some authors focus on only some aspects of these, others do include a broad range of instruction, and when taken together the issues of grooming, gait, voice, gesture, countenance, and the physical manifestations of emotion are addressed. The following will address these according to the physiognomic trope in question.

Grooming Practices Regarding Hair Although ancient male grooming covered a host of practices, for the present I will focus on depilation, with particular attention directed toward exhortations regarding the beard. As Gleason has argued, in the ancient world, hair was considered by some to be a secondary sex characteristic, indicative of masculine identity. She notes that Stoics in particular liked to moralize about hair because “it was a term in the symbolic language of masculinity that could be construed as not merely a conventional sight, but as a symbol established by Nature itself.”16 Given this, it was frequently deemed physiognomically unsound to alter the hair, particularly the beard, as this could indicate latent effeminacy. In antiquity, for some authors, the beard was a primary indication of virile masculinity. As Gleason observes, Since the secondary sex characteristics (particularly the hair and voice) are “read” socially as signs of the inner heat that constitutes a man’s claim to physiological and cultural superiority over women, eunuchs, and children, those who tampered with the most visible variables of masculinity in their selfpresentation provoked vehement moral criticism because they were rightly suspected of undermining the symbolic language in which male privilege was written.17

Musonius Rufus claims that “the beard is the male symbol, as the comb of the rooster and the mane of the lion . . . those who cut their hair and shave themselves

16. Gleason, Making Men, 69. 17. Ibid., 70.

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stand to be considered as androgynous and effeminate persons.”18 Epictetus remarks that did she [nature] not by these means distinguish male and female? Does not the nature of each one of us cry aloud from afar, ‘I am a man: on these terms approach me and address me; seek nothing else. Behold the signs.’ Again, in women nature took the hair from their face . . . but how noble and comely and dignified is this sign [the beard], how much more fair than the cock’s crest, how much more magnificent than the lion’s mane! Therefore we ought to preserve the signs God has given; we ought not to abandon them, nor, so far as in us lies, to confound the sexes which have been distinguished.19

Lucian also espouses a firm view on this subject: “[the Greek heroes Heracles and Theseus] would no more have let you shave them than a lion would; soft smooth flesh was very well for women, they thought; as for them, they were men, and were content to look it; the beard was the man’s ornament, like the lion’s, or the horse’s mane.”20 The comparison of a bearded man with a lion is not incidental—as noted previously, the lion was considered by the physiognomic manuals as the exemplar of masculinity. Tertullian is no different in his assessment of the masculinity (and thus importance) of hairiness including beards and of early Christian men adhering to these common physiognomic views in particular. In his diatribe on women’s apparel and use of cosmetics, Tertullian also sets aside some time for exhortation toward manly comportment regarding hair, conceding that men, too, sometimes attempt to beautify themselves for others. For Tertullian, not only must the hair of the chin be predominantly untouched, but the hair of the head and body must also be left alone, presumably to bask in its masculine glory. He condemningly lists these prohibited practices: [I]f this sex of ours acknowledges to itself deceptive trickeries of from peculiarly its own [such as] to cut the beard too sharply, to pluck it out here and there, to shave around about [the mouth]; to arrange the hair, and disguise it hoariness by dyes; to remove all the incipient down all over the body; to fix (each particular hair) in its place with some womanly pigment; to smooth all the rest of the body by the aid of some rough powder of other.21

18. Disc. 3.1.45; translation from Gleason, Making Men, 69. 19. On Providence, 16 (Matheson, LCL). 20. Cynic. 14 (MacLeod, LCL). 21.  Cult. fem. 8 (ANF 4:22). Tertullian further lambasts those who do this by accusing them of (what one would assume he considers effeminate) preening and vanity:  “then, further, to take every opportunity for consulting the mirror, to gaze anxiously into it” (Cult. fem. 8 [ANF 4:22]).

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Tertullian suggests that these undertakings indicate the character trait of being deficiently modest. While conventionally associated with being a feminine trait, modesty in males was also privileged in antiquity, although as Gleason observes, “manly modesty appears to be an ideal best expressed in the negative:  the real man, or the boy who is on the road to becoming one, is known by the absence of effeminate signs as much by any positive distinguishing marks.”22 Interestingly, in view of the broader Greco-Roman concern regarding beards, Tertullian seems to view the beard as distinct marker of the Christian male, contrasting this hairiness with images of the Greco-Roman gods:  “will God be pleased with the man who changes his features with a razor, faithless to his face— which, not content with remodelling it now after Saturn, now Isis or Bacchus, on top of that he offers to the indignity of slap and buffet, as in travesty of the lord’s commandment?”23 Clement is quite forthright regarding his aims for his physiognomic exhortations to his community: “we must now compendiously describe what the man who is called a Christian ought to be during the whole of his life. We must accordingly begin with ourselves, and how we ought to regulate ourselves . . . we have … to say how each of us ought to conduct himself in respect to his body, or rather how to regulate the body itself.”24 For Clement, this includes the treatment of hair. In her discussion of the physiognomic censure of depilation, Gleason cites some of Clement of Alexandria’s comments on the topic, yet more can be added. Clement held that given that the beard is agreed to be the distinctive indication of the man, as hairiness in general is the mark of a manly nature, one was entitled to infer from the removal of this hair that this was tantamount to the man announcing a preference for purportedly unnatural acts.25 Yet Clement is even more vocal on this topic and like Tertullian does not restrict himself to facial hair, but the cultivation (or removal) of all male hair. In a rather long diatribe, he is caustic against men who pay undo attention to their hair, most notably in not letting it be its manly robust (and untampered with) self.26 He speaks of luxury as a disease that has infected not only women, but men as well, in these pursuits of embellishment, including the tampering with their hair. He castigates and holds up as a negative example men who inclin[e] toward voluptuousness, they become effeminate, cutting their hair in an ungentlemanly and meretricious way . . . Like one who judges people by their

22. Gleason, Making Men, 61. 23. De Spec. 23. 24. Paed. 2.1 (ANF 2:237). 25.  See also Cicero, cited in Chapter 1, where depilation (in this case of the eyebrows) intimates something negative about his character. 26.  Although here he also criticizes men who wear perfume and fine and transparent garments, and who show too much concern for their teeth in their chewing of mastich, these are beyond the focus of this chapter.

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Reading Bodies foreheads, he will divine them to be adulterers and effeminate, addicted to both kinds venery, haters of hair, destitute of hair, detesting the bloom of manliness, and adorning their locks like women . . . For their service the towns are full of those who take out hair by pitch-plasters, shave, and pluck out hairs from these womanish creatures. And shops are erected and opened everywhere; and experts at this meretricious fornication make a deal of money openly by those who plaster themselves, and give their hair to be pulled out in all ways by those who make it their trade, feeling no shame before the onlookers or those who approach, nor before themselves, being men. Such are those who are addicted to base passions, whose whole body is made smooth by the violent tugging of pitch-plasters. It is utterly impossible to get beyond such effrontery. If nothing is left undone by them, neither shall anything be left unspoken by me . . . But for those who are men to shave and smooth themselves, how ignoble! As for dyeing of hair, and anointing of grey locks, and dyeing them yellow, these are practices of abandoned effeminates, and their feminine combing of themselves is a thing to be let alone.27

Clement proceeds to imply that some of the modifications undertaken regarding the hair and body are done in order to appear younger, and elsewhere he does seem to connect grey hair and unadornment with old age and wisdom. For example, he admonishes that “neither is the hair to be dyed, nor grey hair to have its color changed. . . . And above all, old age, which conciliates trust, is not to be concealed. For God’s mark of honour is to be shown in the light of day, to win reverence of the young. For sometimes, when they have been behaving shamefully, the appearance of hoary hairs, arriving like an instructor, has changed them to sobriety, and paralyzed juvenile lust with the splendor of the sight.”28 Nonetheless, that he does interpret the cultivation of male hair to be an indication of effeminacy and sexual vice is also an example of his physiognomic thought. That he is holding these figures up as examples of what not to do and thus to in turn encourage male members of his audience to refrain from these undertakings is evident when elsewhere he makes a direct exhortation to his audience: “It is therefore impious to desecrate the symbol of manhood, hairiness. But the embellishment of smoothing (for I am warned by the Word),29 if it is to attract men, is the act of an effeminate person—if to attract women, is the act of an adulterer, and both must be driven as far as possible from our society.”30 Teresa M.  Shaw observes that Clement wished to modulate early Christian behavioral practices within his community in order to present them in a favorable light to outsiders. She states that “much of Clement’s discussion aims at the desire for

27. Paed. 3.3 (ANF 2:475). 28. Paed. 3.11 (ANF 2:286). 29. One cannot help but wonder what other warnings the Word imparted to Clement, if it demonstrates such an interest in male grooming. 30. Paed. 3.3 (ANF 2:276).

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honor and respect among one’s peers and in society. Thus he paints an amusing (if often disgusting) picture of the glutton or the drunkard or the laughingstock, one whose obsession with food, drink, and exotic dishes is translated to a body which appears shameful and worthy of ridicule. The refined Christian, in contrast, eats and drinks with moderation and decorum worthy of honor.”31 Clement makes his physiognomic exhortations regarding male hair quite clear later in the work: About the hair, the following seems right. Let the head of men be trimmed,32 unless it has curly hair. But let the chin have hair. But let not twisted locks hang far down from the head, gliding into womanish ringlets. For an ample beard suffices for men. And if one, too, shave a part of his beard, it must not be made entirely bare, for this is a disgraceful sight. The shaving of the chin to the skin is reprehensible, approaching to plucking out the hair and smoothing.33

Thus, it is probable that Clement is using physiognomic thought and principles in order to persuade members of his community to follow suit, and present themselves in an appropriate, masculine way so that early Christians will not be subject to the sort of ridicule that Clement himself employs against outsiders. He gives a rather specific description of the physical contortions undertaken by men who submit to the depilating procedure, further portraying them as physically mock-worthy:  “But the using of pitch to pluck out hair (I shrink from even mentioning the shamelessness connected with this process), and in the act of bending back and bending down, the violence done to nature’s modesty by stepping out and bending backwards in shameful postures, yet the doers not ashamed of themselves, but conducting themselves without shame in the midst of the youth, and in the gymnasium, where the prowess of man is tried; the following of this unnatural practice, is it not the extreme of licentiousness?”34 Clement encourages his audience on what to do and not to do, in order to present themselves in the best possible light in accordance with physiognomic ideals.

31. Teresa M. Shaw, Burden of the Flesh (Minneapolis, Minn.: Fortress Press, 1998), 51. 32.  Here I deviate from the translation as Clement clearly does not mean “shaved”: his remarks about not letting the hair grow too long elsewhere support the view that he had a trimming in mind, not complete removal: “since cropping is to be adopted not for the sake of elegance, but on account of the necessity of the case; the hair of the head, that it may not grow so long as to come down and interfere with the eyes, and that of the moustache similarly, which is dirtied in eating, is to be cut round, not be a razor, for that were ungenteel, but by a pair of cropping scissors.” (Paed. 3.11). Similarly, he states that the beard “lends to the face dignity and paternal terror” (ibid.). 33. Paed. 311 (ANF 2: 286). 34. Paed. 3.3; also cited by Gleason, Making Men, 70.

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Gait The importance of the idealized male gait in broader Greco-Roman physiognomic thought has been addressed with regards to men in Chapter 2. Here it will suffice to address early Christian authors’ exhortations for members of their lay male audience to conform to or even exceed this physiognomic standard. Clement exhorts at relatively great length on what he deems to be appropriate means of walking for the early Christian male: [W]e must abandon a furious mode of walking, and choose a grave and leisurely one, but not a lingering step. Nor is one to swagger in the ways, nor throw back his head to look at those he meets, if they look at him, as if he were strutting on the stage, and pointed at with the finger. Nor, when pushing up a hill, are they to be shoved up by their domestics, as we see those that are more luxurious, who appear strong, but are enfeebled by effeminacy of soul.35

For Clement, maintaining not only the standard gait—but indeed, going one better regarding masculine self-sufficiency while in motion—is what every Christian male should aspire to do. So, too, is an effeminate walk to be avoided:  “But feminine motions, dissoluteness, and luxury, are to be entirely prohibited. For voluptuous of motion of walking, and ‘a mincing gait’, as Anacreon says, are altogether meretricious.”36 Elsewhere, he condemns a “dainty and high treading footstep”37 and advocates “quietness in speech and gait.”38 Clement prescribes the idealized male gait to his community to indicate that they were, indeed, ideal men. This too suggests that Clement fears of the early Christian male being singled out and mocked for his gait and presumably the community in turn.39

Voice The importance of the male voice in broader Greco-Roman physiognomic thought has also been addressed in Chapter  2. The implications of this discussion help

35. Paed. 3.11 (ANF 2:288). 36. Ibid. 37. Ibid. 38.  Clement of Alexandria, The Exhortation to the Greeks. The Rich Man’s Salvation. To the Newly Baptized, trans. G. W. Butterworth, Loeb Classical Library. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1919. 39. John Chrysostom also offers exhortations for the early Christian lay man regarding gait, and he is clear in his desire that a man will draw approving attention (catech. bapt. 4, 26; SChr. 50); also cited by Neil Adkin, “The Teaching of the Fathers Concerning Footwear and Gait,” Latomus 42, no. 4 (1983): 885–86: 886. Tertullian also prescribes a modest gait, although he does not elaborate on what this consists of (praescr. 43).

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to explain early Christian exhortations on the male voice, especially regarding considerations of how outsiders might perceive them. Again, Clement seems to be the sole primary source for advice toward lay Christians, and what follows is primarily derived from his works. He asserts that loudness of utterance is most insane; while an inaudible utterance is characteristic of a senseless man, for people will not hear: the one is the mark of pusillanimity, the other of arrogance. . . . An enervated voice is the sign of effeminacy. But modulation of the voice is the characteristic of a wise man, who keeps his utterances from loudness, from drawling, from rapidity, from prolixity.40

Clement is not alone in deeming the enervated voice to be indicative of effeminacy— as discussed in Chapter 2, this is one of the observable aspects of the kinaidos. In cautioning against extremes, Clement makes clear his ideal of moderation, or the ideal mean, for members of his community, in keeping with the broader sentiment that also prized physiognomic balance. He also condemns talking while eating, given that it is indecorous and the voice is not at its best advantage: “for the voice becomes disagreeable and inarticulate when it is confined by full cheeks; and the tongue, pressed by food and impeded in its natural energy, gives forth a compressed utterance.”41 This, of course, is quite the opposite of ideal masculine speech, which is measured and deliberate.42

Bodily Deportment: Self-Control and Physical Traits What follows here is a variety of different gestures and bodily movements that are cautioned not to be undertaken—admittedly, a rather mixed bag, but all seem to serve the ideological goal of decorum or control of physical self-presentation. Clement has quite the sundry list of physical gestures and mannerisms that are to be avoided by the early Christian male (and presumably female here as well, although this is not stipulated). He offers advice on gesture and deportment in the context of a meal, and as Shaw has observed, many of these are negative exemplars that illustrate what not to do, though reinforced by direct exhortation as well. Foremost on his agenda is that the early Christian should not practice physical deportment that indicates the vice and social stigma of greed specifically and indecorum more generally. Blake Leyerle discusses some of these pieces of advice, noting that Clement is unusual in that he is one of the few ancient authors to spell out instructions for

40.  Paed. 2.7 (ANF 2:253). Similarly, he cautions that the voice must not “escap[e] the ears of the company by reason of feebleness, nor going to excess with too much noise” (Exhortation, 12). 41. Paed. 2.1 (ANF 2:240). 42. Gleason, Making Men, 61.

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table etiquette.43 However, this should be offset by observing that many ancient Stoic authors also included similar mandates regarding this in their writings. While it is of course true that these dictates do fall under table manners, I  am addressing them here because beyond this they are also very specific instructions regarding bodily comportment and thus are applicable to be examined in terms of physiognomic thought. Moreover, Clement himself includes these instructions as forming a component of morality, as Leyerle also notes: “his aim is to reshape Christians so that their entire outward manner reveals their inward, Christian, disposition,”44 and thus he views them as physical manifestations that reveal inner character, which is the aim of physiognomy. After a rather long discourse on the foolishness of greed, Clement observes, [H]ow foolish for people to raise themselves on the couches, all but pitching their faces into the dishes, stretching out from the couch as from nest . . . And how senseless, to besmear their hands with condiments, and to be constantly reaching to the sauce, cramming themselves immoderately and shamelessly, not like people tasting, but ravenously seizing! For you may see such people, more like swine or dogs for gluttony than men,45 in such a hurry to feed themselves full that both cheeks are stuffed out at once, the veins about the face raised, and besides, the perspiration running all over, as they are tightened with their insatiable greed, and panting with the excess; the food pushed with unsocial eagerness into their stomach, as if they were stowing away victuals for provision for a journey, not digestion . . . From all slavish habits and excess we must abstain, and touch what is set before us in a decorous way; keeping the hand and couch and chin free from stains; preserving the grace of the countenance undisturbed, and committing no indecorum in the act of swallowing; but stretching out the hand at intervals in an orderly manner.46

Here Clement not only cautions against specific acts of bodily comportment but also seeks to curtail the rather unpleasant involuntary physical reactions that stem

43. Blake Leyerle, “Clement of Alexandria on the Importance of Table Etiquette,” Journal of Early Christian Studies 3 (1995): 123–41. 44. Leyerle, “Table Etiquette,” 125–26. 45.  Leyerle suggests that what is at issue for Clement here in making these animal comparisons is the common etiquette concern of differentiating between the food that is consumed and the person consuming it. He further cites Clement’s caution that “if you bury your mind deep in your belly, you resemble quite remarkably the ass-fish, who alone of all living creatures, according to Aristotle, has its heart in its stomach” (Paed. 2.1; Leyerle, “Table Etiquette,” 126–27). This observation could quite easily be interpreted as the zoological method of physiognomy, along with many of Clement’s animal similes. However, that Clement is equally concerned with the variable physical outcomes that result in overindulgence is clear in his stipulation of how these are unbecoming looks. 46. Paed 2.1 (ANF 2:240).

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from these. Sweat, bulging veins, and panting are all physiological reactions that are beyond control and indeed often—and here do in fact—indicate a lack of bodily control. He offers specific advice on instances when women are present at meals— only married women are permitted, of course, for “it is the extremist scandal” for unmarried women to be present at a banquet of men, especially men who have been imbibing. “Let the men, fixing their eyes on the couch, and leaning without moving on their elbows, be present with their ears alone.”47 Modesty is to be made manifest via the male’s physical comportment, particularly when members of the opposite sex are present. Related to this, he also has some advice on bodily comportment when one is imbibing (of course, refraining from this altogether seems to be his ideal) and the subsequent involuntary physiognomic fallout from this. Those who do so should also consume dry food with it, to absorb superfluous moisture, “[f]or constant spitting and wiping off of perspiration, and hastening to evacuations, is the sigh of excess, from the immoderate use of liquids supplied in excessive quantity to the body.”48 To curtail the potentially problematic male passions, he advises against consuming too much wine, but men may be permitted to indulge during feasts on the condition that “the limit of their potations be the point up to which they keep their reason unwavering, their memory active, and their body unmoved and unshaken by wine.”49 For drinking to excess, of course, has very unhappy physiognomic results: “the tongue is impeded; the lips are relaxed; the eyes roll wildly, the sight, as it were, swimming through the quantity of moisture [the eyes can no longer see properly] . . . And the feet are carried from beneath the man as by a flood, and hiccupping and vomiting and maudlin nonsense follow.”50 The results of intoxication provide a checklist of physiognomic concerns: eyes, voice, and gait all become uncontrolled. Similarly, he points attention to those who habitually overimbibe, saying that “you many see some of them, half-drunk, staggering, with crowns round their necks like wine jars, vomiting drink on one another in the name of good fellowship; and others, full of the effects of their debauch, dirty, pale in the face, livid.”51 For Clement, the implication of his admonishments of others as negative examples becomes clear when, as noted above, he cautions his audience to behave physiognomically appropriately, “lest we also become a like spectacle and laughingstock to others.”52 Greed of drink and its physical manifestation is also to be avoided: “so that we are to drink without contortions of the face, not greedily grasping the cup, or before drinking making the eyes roll with unseemly motion; nor from intemperance are

47. Ibid. 48. Paed. 2.7 (ANF 2:252). 49. Ibid. 50. Paed. 2.2 (ANF 2:244). 51. Ibid. 52. Ibid.

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we to drain the cup at a draught; nor besprinkle the chin, nor splash the garments while gulping down all the liquor at once—our face all but filling the bowl and drowned in it. For the gurgling occasioned by the drink rushing with violence, and by its being drawn in with a great deal of breath, as if it were being poured into an earthenware vessel, while the throat makes a noise through the rapidity of ingurgitation, is a shameful and unseemly spectacle of intemperance.”53 Rather, drinking is to be done in a controlled and measured pace: “your thirst is satiated, even if you drink slower, observing decorum, by taking the beverage in small portions, in an orderly way.”54 Other behaviors condemned by Clement are those that attest to a disruption in one’s state of being or want of decorum. He states that early Christians who “assign the best part of the night to wakefulness, must by no means sleep by day; and fits of uselessness and napping and stretching one’s self, and yawning, are manifestations of frivolous uneasiness of the soul.”55 He also forbids “all nervous movement.”56 Here Christians are held to an even more exacting physiognomic standard, in that they must not allow their purported lack of sleep to influence their physiognomy. Speaking explicitly of a relatively public context, that of guests in one’s house, Clement commands that “[f]requent spitting, too, and violent clearing of the throat, and the wiping of one’s nose at an entertainment, are to be shunned. For respect is assuredly to be had to the guests, lest they turn in disgust from such filthiness, which argues want of restraint.”57 So, too, are sounds and gestures to be undertaken in a subdued and decorous manner: If anyone is attacked with sneezing, just as in the case of hiccups, he most not startle those near him with the explosion, and so give proof of his bad breeding, but the hiccup is to be quietly transmitted with the expiration of breath, the mouth being composed becomingly, and not gaping and yawning like the tragic masks. So the disturbance of the hiccup may be avoided by making the respirations gently . . . to wish to add to the noises, instead of diminishing them, is the sign of arrogance and disorderliness. Those, too, who scrape their teeth, bleeding the wounds, are disagreeable to themselves and detestable to their neighbours.

53. Paed. 2.2 (ANF 2:245). 54. Ibid. 55. Paed. 2.9 (ANF 2:259). 56. Clement of Alexandria, To the Newly Baptized, 12. In this same exhortation he also forbids bursts of anger, being “sluggish in speaking” so that the end result is achieved: “so that your quietness may be adorned by good proportion and your bearing may appear something divine” (ibid.). 57. Paed. 2.7 (ANF 2:253). He continues that “we are not to copy oxen and assess, whose manger and dunghill are together. For many wipe their noses and spit even while supping” (Paed. 2.7).

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Scratching the ears and the irritation of sneezing are piggish gestures, indications of unbridled fornication. Both shameful sights and shameful conversation about them are to be shunned. Let the look be steady, and the turning and movement of the neck and the motions of the hand in conversation, be decorous. In a word, the Christian is characterized by composure, tranquility, calmness, and peace.58

Hiccups and sneezing are, of course, bodily functions that are to a large extent beyond cognizant control—Clement nonetheless expects his audience to impose a form of control on them, making them the idealized, controlled body. For Clement, it is crucial that early Christians do not lose bodily control but rather are able to comport themselves in physiognomically appropriate ways in order to deflect criticism of their characters and in turn Christianity. As Leyerle suggests, “behaviour at meals was a reliable indicator of personality in Greco-Roman society.”59

Control of Displays of Emotion: Laughter Stephen Halliwell discusses the tension early Christians faced regarding laughter in a Greco-Roman context where it was generally deemed a positive thing. However, he does note that paganism was not without its own antigeliasiatic proponents primarily drawn from philosophy. He suggests that what these figures primarily objected to regarding laughter was “lack of self-control and social antagonism.”60 He further remarks that “[e]ven before the impingement of Christian values, the ethical traditions of Greek paganism placed so much weight on self-control and the capacity to resist (excessive) pleasure that the sheer physicality of laughter could create a presumption of moral danger.”61 Clement, while not despising expressions of humor, does not, unsurprisingly, encourage unrestrained physical manifestations of it, and for reasons similar to those that Halliwell observes. For Clement, the concern is that the lack of bodily self-control and the potential that the Christian laugher will cause fissures within the community, and more potentially problematic, is that by this lack of control the Christian will make himself an object of ridicule. He states, If, then, wags are to be ejected from our society, we ourselves must by no manner of means be allowed to stir up laughter. For it were absurd to be found imitators of things of which we are prohibited to be listeners; and still more absurd for a

58. Paed. 2.7. 59. Leyerle, “Table Etiquette,” 140. 60.  Stephen Halliwell, Greek Laughter:  A Study of Cultural Psychology from Homer to Early Christianity (Cambridge; New York: Cambridge University Press, 2008), 482. 61. Ibid., 10.

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Clement goes so far as to classify types of expressions of humor that are acceptable or not: “the seemly relaxation of the countenance in a harmonious manner—as of a musical instrument—is called a smile. So also is laughter on the face of wellregulated men termed. But the discordant realization of the countenance in the case of women is called a giggle, and is meretricious laughter; in the case of men, a guffaw, and is savage and insulting laughter.”63 Halliwell notes that Clement’s sensitivity to the details of the body language of laughter evidences to some degree a Pauline wariness of sexuality:  “A crucial premise here is that excessive mirth involves a loosening of bodily control and decorum, and therefore tends to be both a symptom and sometimes even a cause of lasciviousness.”64 Clement also outlines instances where laughter is acceptable—in a moderate amount, of course. He advises that we are not to laugh perpetually, for that is going beyond bounds; nor in the presence of elderly persons, or others worthy of respect, unless they indulge in pleasantry for our amusement. Nor are we to laugh before all and sundry, nor in every place, nor to everyone, nor about everything. For to children and women especially laughter is the cause of slipping into scandal. And even to appear stern serves to keep those about us at their distance. For gravity can ward off the approaches of licentiousness by a mere look.65

As is nearly always the case in physiognomic thought, Clement asserts that the medium between two extremes is the mark to shoot for: “but, on the other hand, one needs not be gloomy, only grave. For I certainly prefer a man to smile who has a stern countenance than the reverse; for so his laughter will be less apt to become the subject of ridicule.”66 But even then one must have control depending on the context: “smiling even requires to be made the subject of discipline. If it is at what is disgraceful, we ought to blush rather than smile, lest we seem to take pleasure in it by sympathy.”67 For Clement, the ideal Christian male avoids physical manifestations that indicate these character defects. 62. Paed. 2.5 (ANF 2:250). 63. Paed. 2.5. In support of these assertions, he cites Sirach 21.20: “A fool raises his voice in laughter” (Paed 2.5). 64. Halliwell, Greek Laughter, 490. Halliwell suggests that the loosening associated with female laughter is particularly problematic for Clement, given that it “enacts a breakdown of the bashfulness and modesty paradigmatically expected of them” (491). 65. Paed. 2.5 (ANF 2:250). 66. Ibid. 67. Ibid.

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The Physiognomy of the Male Ascetic or Clergy Member Although the exhortations for lay persons are quite strident, those for clergy members and ascetics are perhaps even more so. While most of what was applicable for the lay Christian male was in keeping with broader Greco-Roman physiognomic principles, for the ascetically minded there is some degree of slight deviations, albeit not so far from broader convention that they still employ it with an eye to persuading outsiders of their moral integrity. Gregory, in his eulogy of Basil the Great, relates that the latter’s sober physiognomy was not only impressive to other clergy but so much so to the extent that men had sought to emulate him in these regards. It provides a nice overview of the topics that will be addressed in what follows for male ascetics: “his paleness, his beard, his gait, his thoughtful, and generally meditative hesitation in speaking.”68 Gregory continues that others, in trying to emulate him physically, ill-judged these traits, which in their ignorant imitations “took the form of melancholy.”69 Here the trait that becomes a slight deviation from the broader Greco-Roman ideal is pallor, which reoccurs frequently in the Christian authors examined below. As previously noted, however, there is something of precedent for this in the examples of the philosophical figure. Similar to this, and although speaking of female adornment, what Upson-Saia asserts is equally applicable to other aspects of physical appearance discussed below for both genders:  “Ascetics were continually urged to exert fastidious care to their appearance, an appearance that paradoxically was to communicate neglect and disinterest.”70

The Relatively Neglected Body as Positive Physiognomic Trait Jerome, perhaps unsurprisingly, uses himself as an exemplar to imitate (although here he is writing to a woman, Eustochium), albeit during his time of fasting in the desert of Jerusalem. He is quite vocal in his physical suffering undertaken in the hopes of vanquishing his lust, and it is clear that he is also quite proud of it: “Sackcloth disfigured my unshapely limbs and my skin from long neglect had become as black as an Ethiopians. Tears and groans were my every day portion; and if drowsiness chanced to overcome my struggles against it, my bare bones, which hardly held together, crashed against the ground . . . My face was pale and my frame chilled with fasting; yet my mind was burning with desire, and the fires of lust kept bubbling up before me when my flesh was as good as dead . . . Now, if such are the temptations of men, who, since their bodies are emaciated

68. Orat. 43.77 (NPNF2 7:421). 69. Ibid. 70. Upson-Saia, Early Christian Dress, 51.

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with fasting, have only evil thoughts to fear, how must it fare with a girl whose surroundings are those of luxury and ease?”71 Although this example was offered to a woman, Jerome also chastises a lapsed monk with similar admonishments:  “Do you dread the bare ground and limbs wasted with fasting? . . . Do you recoil from an unwashed head and uncombed hair? . . . Is your skin rough and scaly because you no longer bathe?”72 Elsewhere, he holds up the monk Hilarion as an additional exemplar, “his body thin and delicate, unfit to bear the slightest injury which cold or heat could inflict.”73 Gregory of Nazianzus also approvingly notes the “dirty and unwashed hair” of the figure of the monk.74 Basil also prizes a pale complexion that indicates the fasting clergy member: “the complexion of a faster is venerable, not breaking out in unseemly red blotches, but adorned with the pallor of temperance.”75 His approval of an unkempt appearance as an indication of the dedicated restraint that he feels Christianity calls for is also clear: “From the humble and submissive spirit comes an eye sorrowful and downcast, appearance neglected, hair rough, dress dirty, so that the appearance of which mourners take pains to present may appear to be our natural condition.”76 Gregory’s observation of Basil’s pallor was noted above. What is the most likely physiognomic reading of this pallor is the very direct and concrete relation to fasting—depriving the body of nutrients—and a rather sallow skin tone. If this is at work in the minds of these authors, then here is a physiognomic ideal that is similar to those dedicated to the intellectual life, albeit with something of a Christian spin on it. In both cases, the desires of the body were controlled almost to the point of neglect of it in the pursuit of a higher intellectual or spiritual life, and the body attested to this. However, pallor and weakened body are also some of the attributes that could be used in attempts at physiognomic deception, as many of these authors caution

71. Epist. 22.7–8 (NPNF2 6:25). Some degree of pious squalor is elsewhere a physiognomic trope to imitate for Jerome: “Let your garments be squalid to show that your mind is white, and your tunic coarse to prove that you despise the world. But give not way to pride lest your dress and language be found at variance” (Epist. 125.7 [NPNF2 6:246]). However, again, this is not too far of a departure for the philosophical precedent previously discussed. 72. Epist. 14.10 (NPNF2 6:17). 73. Vit. Hil. 4; also cited by Elizabeth C. Evans, “Physiognomics in the Ancient World,” Transactions of the American Philosophical Society 59, no. 5 (1969): 77 nt 25. 74.  Orat. 6.2 (Gregory of Nazianzus: Select Orations [trans. Martha Vinson; TFOC 107; Catholic University Press of America, 2003]); also cited by Adkin, “Teaching,” 886. 75. On Fasting, 9. Available at https://www.crkvenikalendar.com/post/post-svetivasilije _en.php. 76.  Letter 2.6, also cited by Evans, “Physiognomics in the Ancient World,” 6.  Rather curiously, elsewhere he cautions against appearing too mournful while fasting, though presumably his criticism here pertains to acting in a way that draws attention to the selfsacrifice, which thus undermines its value.

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against. Libanius criticizes his opponents by asserting that they not only eat more than elephants and overly indulge in alcohol, but in turn they “hide their luxury by their pale and artificial countenance.”77 Jerome also attests to this physiognomic forgery as pertains to fasting. In his letter to Eustochium, he cautions her:  “do not deliberately lower your voice as though worn out with fasting; nor, leaning on the shoulder of another, mimic the tottering gait of one who is faint. Some women, it is true, disfigure their faces so as to appear to men to be fasting. As soon as they catch sight of any one they groan, they look down; they cover their faces, all but one eye, which they keep free to see with. Their dress is somber, their girdles are of sackcloth, their hands and feet are dirty; only their stomachs— which cannot be seen—are hot with food.”78 Basil also is at pains to unearth and prevent physiognomic deception regarding fasting: “do not disfigure your face as do the hypocrites. The face is disfigured when one’s inner disposition is obscured by a shame external appearance . . . whatever you may be, appear as such. Do not transform yourself into a sullen person, seeking the glory that comes from appearing to be abstemious.”79 The potential for physiognomic deception was evidently a concern for at least some members of these communities.

Gait Ambrose’s opinions on what he considers to be an improper gait that reveals moral inferiority of his fellow clergy members specifically has been discussed in Chapter 2. What remains is to examine, to the extent that it is possible given a paucity of concrete details, is what the proper gait of a clergyman should be, and this includes examples of gaits that were deemed to be best avoided. Following the influence of Cicero, he castigates those who in walking “perceptibly copy the gestures of actors, and act as though they were bearers in the processions, and have the motions of nodding statues, to such an extent that they seem to keep a sort of time, as often as they change their step.”80 Here Ambrose is cautioning against a gait that is clearly contrived, where attempting to walk at a sedate pace by doing so too overtly will betray the machinations behind it. However, Ambrose holds that the other extreme of walking too quickly is also to be avoided: “Nor do I think it becoming to walk hurriedly, except when a case of danger demands it, or a real necessity. For we often see those who hurry come up panting, and with features distorted. But if there is no reason for the need of such hurry, it gives just cause for offense.”81 Ambrose asserts

77. Orations 30.8 (Norman, LCL). 78. Epist. 22.27 (NPNF2 6:34). 79. On Fasting, 2. 80. Off. 1.18.73. 81.  Off. 1.18.74. He makes clear that he does not mean those who occasionally have to hurry, but instead speaks “about those to whom constant and persistent haste has become second nature” (Off. 1.18.74).

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that both extremes are inappropriate: “On the one hand, I do not approve of people looking like statues, nor, on the other, of people virtually tripping over themselves in a mad rush to dash about their business.”82 In addition to avoiding these, Ambrose does prescribe a more appropriate gait: “there is, though, another type of gait, one of which we can approve, which gives an impression of authority, of firmness and gravity, and a sense of calm purpose. The important thing is to keep studied effort and affectation out of it, and allow your movement to be natural and simple; for no kind of falsehood can ever be pleasing. Let nature herself shape your movement.”83 However, when nature is lacking, Ambrose does permit some degree of effort to rectify this, although, of course, this attempt itself must not be discernible.84 Ambrose asserts that “modesty must further be guarded on our very movements and gestures and gait . . . the movement of the body is a sort of voice of the soul.”85 Hartsock is no doubt correct in suggesting that the ideal walk for Ambrose is one that is moderated and does not display any hints of effeminacy.86 Basil recommends that the steps of clergy be undertaken in a well-regulated manner as extremes will indicate negative character traits:  “the gait ought not to be sluggish, which shows a character without energy, nor on the other hand pushing and pompous, as though as impulses were rash and wild.”87 Jerome, whose prescriptions for female gait are discussed below, also privileges this is men. In speaking of the monastic sect the Coenobites, he relates that they live harmoniously and at night offer praise of their colleagues to one another: “There each one talks till evening with his comrade thus: ‘have you noticed so and so? What grace he has! How silent he is! How soberly he walks!’ ”88 Gregory notes the “serene gait” of the monk in an approving manner.89 It is likely that the idea gait being prescribed is the same as found in broader Greco-Roman thought, discussed in Chapter 2: one that arrives at a happy medium of pace and movement and is ultimately one that displays control over the body.

Voice Basil argues that the voice must be modulated: “no one ought to answer another, or do anything, roughly or contemptuously, but in all things moderation and respect 82. Off 1.18.74. 83. Off. 1.18.75. 84. “If, of course, there is some flaw in the style nature has given you, then by all means try to put it to right with a little hard work: it is artificiality that needs to be kept out of things, not an appropriate measure of correction” (Off. 1.18.75). 85. Off. 1.18.71. 86.  Chad Hartsock, Sight and Blindness in Luke-Acts:  The Use of Physical Features in Characterization (Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2008), 141. 87. Letter 2.6; also cited by Evans, “Physiognomics in the Ancient World,” 6. 88. Epist. 22.35 (NPNF2 6:38). 89. Orat. 6.2; also cited by Adkin, “Teaching,” 886.

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should be shown to everyone.”90 Ambrose, while preferring silence (even for men), nonetheless advises on how modesty should inform the sound and pitch of voice. He states that “[modesty] . . . is seen not only inactions but even in our words, so that we may not go beyond due measure in speech, and that our words may not be unbecoming in sound . . . sobriety weighs out even the sound of our voice, for fear that too loud a voice should offend the ear of anyone.”91 He states that “we must keep the mean in all things, so that a calm countenance and quiet speech may show that there is no vice in our lives.”92 A loud voice in this context, of course, might easily suggest anger, or some other negative character trait. He further cautions that “the voice itself should not be soft or feeble, and should not sound at all effeminate, or convey the sort of tone that man people who pretend to seriousness are inclined to put on. It ought to preserve a specific accent, pitch, and manly timbre . . . But just as I do not approve of a tone of voice or bodily movement that is soft or effete, I equally do not approve of the kind that is coarse or uncouth.”93 Elsewhere he concedes that while a melodious tone is not one that all can have (instead, it is the gift of nature), what is paramount is that the voice be clear and plain and, of course, to be distinct in pronunciation, be in a “thoroughly manly timbre [plena suci virilis],” and free from a rough and rustic twang or adopting a theatrical accent.94 For Ambrose, again moderation between two extremes is the ideal.

Control of the Expression Emotions: Grief and Laughter Basil also insists on moderation of emotion: “he ought not to engage in jesting; he ought not to laugh nor even to suffer laugh makers.”95 Similarly, he says of the individual who is fasting:  “his gaze is calm, his gait is sedate, his countenance thoughtful—not demeaned by unrestrained laughter—his speech is moderate, his heart is pure.”96 That his concern is in part also the lack of bodily control that accompanies extremes of laughter and in turn has implications for the individual’s character is made clear: For to be overcome by incontinent and immoderate laughter is a mark of incontinence and shows that a man has not his emotions under control, and does not suppress the frivolity of his soul by a strict rule. It is not unseemly

90. Epist. 22.2. He further recommends that talking idly should be avoided, and work is best undertaken in silence (ibid.). 91. Off. 1.18.67. 92. Off. 1.18.89. 93. Off. 1.18.84. 94. Off. 1.18.104. 95. Epist. 22.16-17. 96. On Fasting, 9.

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to reveal merriment to the extent of a cheerful smile, though only so far as Scripture allows for it when it says: ‘when the heart is merry the face rejoices’; but to shout with loud laughter, and allow the body to shake involuntarily97 [βρασμα], does not befit one who has his soul under control, or is proved of virtue, or has command of himself.98

As Halliwell observes, while for Basil a smile was permissible, “the mirth of noisy vocalization and heaving patterns of breathing—Basil dwells puritanically on the physical symptoms—is prohibited, and associated in the process with the fool’s noisy laughter of Ecclesiastes 7.6.”99 What seems evident is that the lack of control over the body prompted by laughter is of great concern to Basil, and it is these bodily symptoms of mirth that are his chief concern. Halliwell proposes a connection in Basil’s thought between his concerns with laughter and his (previously noted) interest in the pale complexion of self-discipline: This virtue is now characterized as the “death” or mortification (nekrosis) of the body, a vocabulary whose force is directed away from the metaphorical towards the literal by the statement that whereas a normal athlete (the paradigm of physical manliness)100 will be conspicuous by the healthy tone and colour of his skin, the Christian “athlete” should be equally conspicuous for withered flesh and on oxymoronically “blooming pallor”. It is particularly striking that Basil should choose to complement his reflections on laughter with remarks on the corpse-like face of the ascetic, the athlete of the soul. This is a countenance on which it is impossible to imagine laughter of any familiar kind—a facial advertisement for an antigelastic mentality.101

Gregory is similar in these views regarding appropriate physiognomy for a monk, observing that “a serene gait; a tempered gaze, a gentle smile, or rather the hint of a smile inhibiting petulant laughter.”102 Jerome, again speaking approvingly of the Coenobites, remarks that they have mastery over the expression of emotions. During sermons, “while he is speaking the silence is profound; no man ventures to look at his neighbor or to clear his throat. The speaker’s praise is in the weeping of his hearers. Silent tears roll down

97.  The Greek literally means to boil or bubble up, and Halliwell suggests that this should be understood here to indicate “heave” and/or “overheat” with laughter (Halliwell, Greek Laughter, 514 nt. 104). He also notes that this verb is also employed in Gregory’s description of Julian, discussed in Chapter 2. 98. Longer Rules, 359–60; translation taken from Evans, “Physiognomics in the Ancient World,” 78. 99. Halliwell, Greek Laughter, 514. 100. With some exceptions to this view—see Jerome on Pelagius in Chapter 2. 101. Halliwell, Greek Laughter, 516. 102. Orat. 6.2; Also cited by Adkin, “Teaching,” 886.

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their cheeks, but not a sob escapes from their lips.”103 Here, again, is an instance of masculine emotion that is expressed in a controlled way.

Physiognomic Exhortations for Female Ascetics Throughout the preceding work, the subjects and authors have all been men. The only appearance of women, or at least femininity, has been as a caution of how not to comport one’s self so to avoid any indications of effeminacy. However, despite the presence of “actual” women in the following, the physiognomic enterprise primarily nonetheless remains a discourse by men, and for men. Kate Cooper has discussed the role that the Christian rhetoric of virginity played in moral discourse that once centered solely around male dominance of a household but now moved to discourses on female chastity.104 As part of a caution on the limitation of sources, in that there is rarely any first-hand female accounts regarding celibacy, she says of the rhetorical discourse on the subject, “An attempt to understand the conventions by which gender-specific characteristics were assigned to women and men, and the rhetorical ends that such conventions could serve, will tell us something about the relations between men and women, and at least as much again about the competition for power between men and other men.”105 As such, the male discourse on female chastity ultimately reveals more about the ideals of men in their negotiations for status with one other than it does provide a clear insight into the thoughts and ideals of the women themselves.106 In other words, this discourse reveals what men privileged in “their women” as reflective of their own morality, character, and dominance, in that they could successfully enforce (or entice) chastity in the women in their lives. Speaking particularly of chastity as a bone fought over in this rhetorical struggle for moral superiority, Cooper observes, If a man’s enemies were bent on discerning in his private life an intemperance that could compromise the fulfillment of public duty, it was his task to undermine

103. Epist. 22.35 (NPNF2 6:38). 104. Kate Cooper, The Virgin and the Bride (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1996), 3, states, “[T]he representation of marital concord served an important rhetorical function, supporting the claims put forward by aristocratic men in competition with one another by implying their ethical fitness for responsibility.” 105. Cooper, Virgin and the Bride, 4. 106. This is not to deny that the lived experience of these women is wholly inaccessible or to deny that they had some degree of autonomy in adopting an ascetic lifestyle or undertaking the prescribed physiognomic comportment, yet this discussion is beyond the scope of the current work. Rather, my focus is on this discourse as a form of rhetoric to be displayed to outsiders and thus the physiognomic exhortations contained within them as adequately encapsulating the male ideal of these women.

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the plausibility of such revelations by a deft broadcasting of his probity. This meant that he should make as public as possible his solemn affection for the chaste women of his family. Paradoxically, the modesty of his wife and female relatives was of use to him only if it was widely acknowledged. Thus it would emerge as a critical element in the ceaseless struggle over a man’s, and a family’s reputation.107

Again, much of what Upson-Saia argues regarding the male dialogue on female ascetic adornment is equally applicable here. Women who looked like and performed the feminine ideal as articulated by men were an honor and credit to their male kin or those whom they were under the governance of. This represented the male’s own masculine control and dominance of these women, and in the case of early Christian authors, this was of particular importance for gentile observers. Pertinent to the present work, Upson-Saia notes that on some occasions superiority was conveyed by the moderate (rather than lavish) appearance of a woman, which indicated self-control and reason: “Elite Roman men, for instance, offered their restrained manner of dressing as evidence that they were more virtuous than barbarians and Roman women. So, too, early Christians claimed that the simple and humble dress of their members—especially their women—proved that they possessed a greater virtue than their pagan neighbors.”108 Although Upson-Saia is remarking about a humility of dress, regarding appearance I  suggest that this is applicable to a physical comportment conveying humility. That some early Christian writers did compare “their” women with those of their pagan counterparts on the credentials of the superiority of their chastity—presumably predicated on what dress or behavior could be externally observed—is attested by Tertullian and Tatian in particular. Tertullian’s Apology attacks the male honor of his pagan contemporaries by disparaging “their” women, albeit regarding dress: “I see now no difference between the dress of matrons and prostitutes.”109 Tatian goes on at great length in a similar vein, holding up pagan female exemplars and depictions in statuary as sexually immodest before asserting “but all of our women are chaste.”110 Upson-Saia notes that by the early imperial period, Roman men interpreted the dress of women in ways that would reinforce their own masculine dominance: how 107.  Cooper, Virgin and the Bride, 13. While of course the marital relationship that Cooper speaks of here is not applicable to the female ascetics discussed below, these women were still considered to be under the guardianship of male figures of authority in early Christian communities. 108. Upson-Saia, Early Christian Dress, 6. 109. Apol. 6 (ANF 3:22). 110.  Oration to the Greeks, 33, my emphasis (ed. and trans. M.  Whittaker [Oxford:  Clarendon Press,  1992]). To be fair, here Tatian also defends early Christian women as having intellectual capacities as well, though his lengthy counterexamples of licentious pagan goddesses do suggest that the chastity of Christian women is to some degree more important to him.

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a woman looked was not always interpreted in terms of her own status but primarily in terms of the status that was imparted on her by her closest male relative.111 She asserts that “[l]ike their pagan predecessors, Christians also used physical appearances as a measure of morality and identity, hoping that the looks of certain [female] Christians might secure honor for their Christian community.”112 She notes that “even though all Christians were meant to display Christianity’s status through their physical appearance, the female Christian ascetic was upheld as the paradigmatic emblem of Christian morality . . . Christian writers hoped that the image of female ascetics would project and impress the extraordinary virtue of Christianity into the minds of spectator.”113 She further observes that women’s dress was publicized by Christians, who jockeyed for influence and authority in the Mediterranean. The simple and unadorned dress of female Christian ascetics was interpreted as a symbol of Christianity’s moral superiority, which set Christians apart from their pagan neighbors. The Christian ascetic exhibited not the typical feminine vice of other women—the vain and hypersexual desire to be alluring and attract attention—but rather exhibited humility and restraint. This difference was then mobilized as evidence of Christianity’s exceptional piety and moral superiority.114

Teresa M. Shaw has discussed the importance of demarcating the Christian female from the rest of the world, albeit primarily in terms of askesis regarding female ascetics. Discussing male-authored texts, she observes that “the works praising virginity typically include detailed instructions for proper conduct and activates by which the virgin is distinguished from ‘the world’ and from ‘worldly’ persons.”115 While of course all of these authors strongly advised women from venturing out in public, such assertions were made nonetheless to prevent “outsiders” from evaluating these women in a negative way, and by extension these early Christian male authors. As Shaw states of the prescriptive advice from male clergy, [E]ach activity and each feature of her image crystallizes the virgin’s distinction from “them”: the worldly, the married, the pagan, the heretical. It does not really matter that the particular directives are not unique to Christian ascetic discourse (the ideals of the modest woman, a decorous walk, and light eating, for example, are common in ancient literature). What matters is that the behaviours are part of a contracted model of the “church’s virgin.”116

111. Upson-Saia, Early Christian Dress, 6. 112. Ibid., 32. 113. Ibid., 51. 114. Ibid., 107. 115. Shaw, “Askesis,” 487. 116. Ibid., 491.

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Much of the following physiognomic injunctions seem to prioritize the curtailing of women appearing sexually available and to demonstrate the controlled chastity of these ascetic women. The rules for ascetic men and women were similar in that for both the ideal was bodily control, but women had extra instructions for bodily comportment that adhered to, and even surpassed, the scope of pagan ideals of the chaste woman. The chaste matron of pagan thought was to be oneupped by the virgin brides of Christ while still participating in shared discourse and physiognomic values. The authors discussed below took the broader ideal of the physiognomic indications of the chaste woman and upped the ante. Here we see less concern for women per se (although these authors maintained such undertakings were for the ascetics’ own good) but greater concern for them as “their” women who represented and could be used to increase their own status, and Christianity’s status as a collective. Not only could these male authors not be charged with instigating others to lust, but there was also an additional benefit in that they were able to prevent their women from doing this. Consequently, their masculine control and authority were further attested. As Upson-Saia suggests regarding the clothing of ascetic women, “her distinctive dress was to be an outward sign of her ascetic pledge. Namely, she was to appear disinterested in the worldly trappings of status, wealth, and sexuality. Ascetic’s distinctive garb and grooming set them apart from lay Christians as well as from their pagan neighbors. It marked their exceptional piety in a visible way, according them distinction and honor.”117 Of course, this was itself predicated on broader Greco-Roman ideals of the chaste woman, beyond clothing in terms of the mannerisms prized by both groups. Early church writers are quite vocal in suggesting that a virgin’s status as such must be readily apparent to observers. Ambrose asserts, “[L]et virginity first be marked by the voice, let modesty close the mouth, let religion remove weakness, and habit instruct nature. Let her gravity first announce a virgin to me, a modest approach, a sober gait, a bashful countenance . . . That virgin is not sufficiently worthy of approval who has to be enquired about [if she is in fact a Christian ascetic] when she is seen.”118 Tertullian writes that a virgin’s chastity ought to “burst out from [her] conscience to [her] outward appearance, so that from the outside” this virginity will be revealed.119 Similarly he asserts that “it is not enough for Christian modesty to be so, but [it must] seem so.”120 While Tertullian here speaks primarily of dress, that he has other bodily comportments of the virgin in mind is made clear throughout the work discussed below. And Jerome similarly praises the “conspicuous chastity” of Paula.121 In this period, many of these female ascetics continued to live at home with their families and comprised a significant amount

117. Upson-Saia, Early Christian Dress, 2. 118. Virginit. 3.3.13 (NPNF2 10:383). 119. Cult. fem. 2.13 (ANF 4:25), also cited by Upson-Saia, Early Christian Dress, 51. 120. Cult. fem. 2.13, also cited by Upson-Saia, Early Christian Dress, 51. 121. Epist. 45.3 (NPNF2 6:59); also cited by Upson-Saia, Early Christian Dress, 51.

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of the population in their respective churches. Thus, they were not cloistered away but were subject to the observance of external others. Like their male counterparts, physiognomic exemplars that covered a wide range of physiognomic tropes and aspects were offered by authors who made exhortations regarding correct bodily comportment, and I again cite these as an overview of the physiognomic tropes discussed. Not surprising, Mary the Mother of Jesus is one of these offered by these authors in works directed toward virgins— the virgin par excellence. In his On Virginity, Ambrose says of Mary that “there was nothing harsh in her eyes, nothing forward in her words, nothing unbecoming in her behaviour. Her gestures were not abrupt, her gait not slack, her voice was not pert: her bodily appearance itself was the image of her soul and an indicator of her virtuousness.”122 Athanasius also holds Mary up as an exemplar of the dignified virgin physiognomy: “her words were calm; her voice, moderate; she did not cry out.”123 Perhaps seeking a more immediately relatable example, in his letter to Asella Jerome recommends Marcella as a personal exemplar to imitate, Marcella being a virgin that both knew in common. “She is alike pleasant in her serious moods and serious in her pleasant ones: her manner, while winning, is always grave, and while grave is always winning. Her pale face indicates continence but does not betoken ostentation. Her speech is silent and her silence is speech. Her pace is neither too fast nor too slow.”124 Here the paleness due to ostentation that Jerome refers to likely refers to the cosmetic practice of painting the face white.125

The Thin, Unkempt Body and Paleness as a Positive Physiognomic Trait In this same letter, Jerome advises Asella to keep company with like-minded (and like in appearance) virgins: “Let your companions be women pale and thin with fasting” rather than married women or widows.126 He holds up these latter as a negative example of widows who seem, to his mind, to be enjoying their newfound freedom as widows too much: “As it is, they only change their garb; their old selfseeking remains unchanged. To see them in capricious litters, with red cheeks and

122. Virginit. 2.2.7 (NPNF2 10:374). 123.  In David Braake’s Athanasius and the Politics of Asceticism (Oxford:  Clarendon Press, 1995); also cited by Shaw, “Askesis,” 488. Shaw does observe that here these authors are employing “the language and models of physiognomy” (“Askesis,” 489). 124. Epist. 24.5 (NPNF2 6:43). 125.  Jerome refers to this practice with disdain elsewhere; for example, in Epist. 54.3 he asserts, “[W]hat place have rouge and white lead on the face of a Christian woman? . . . They serve only to inflame young men’s passions, to stimulate lust, and to indicate an unchaste mind.” 126. Epist. 22.17 (NPNF2 6:28).

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plump bodies.”127 Also held up for criticism are women who he says “fall daily” and seem to have been enjoying the freedom afforded to widows before even marrying in the first place. He states that these women try to conceal their miserable fall by a lying garb. Unless they are betrayed by swelling wombs or by the crying of their infants, they walk around with tripping feet and heads in the air . . . And when they see another pale or sad they call her wretch or Manichean. . . . When they do go out they do their best to attract notice, and with nods and winks encourage troops of young fellows to follow them.128

Jerome disapproves of physiognomic signals that he thinks convey sexual interest. But Asella is not the only pale and thin virgin Jerome holds up for praise. In his letter of consolation to Paula after the death of her (also) ascetic daughter Blaesilla, he praises her physical simplicity and delicacy: “her face was pale and quivering, her slender neck scarcely upheld her head.”129 Basil also cites pale skin as a physiognomic trait that demonstrates female piety in terms of avoiding indulgences. In chastising a lapsed ascetic, he queries, “[W]hat has become of your grave appearance, your gracious demeanor, your plain dress, meet for a virgin, the beautiful blush of modesty, the comely and bright pallor due to temperance and vigils, shining fairer than any brilliance of complexion?”130 While the comeliness of pallor is quite certainly subjective, Basil praises this as a physical indication of control over the body and its desires.

Gait Anthony Corbeill notes the ideal walk for men was quite distinct from the ideal female gait: “Women were expected to walk slowly and softly, whereas men should move with quick determination.”131 He cites the anecdote told by Marcobius regarding Cicero’s daughter and her husband: “Since his son in law Piso walked rather daintily, whereas his daughter walked with too much bustle, Cicero said to his daughter, ‘walk like a man—your man.’ ”132 Summarizing the advice given by Ovid, O’Sullivan concludes that “a woman’s walk should be graceful, but not ostentatious.”133 127. Epist. 22.16; cited previously. 128. Epist. 22.13 (NPNF2 6:27). 129. Epist. 39.1; also cited by Evans, “Physiognomics in the Ancient World.” 77, nt. 29. 130. Epist. 46.2 (NPNF2 8:149). 131. Anthony Corbeill, Controlling Laughter: Political Humor in the Late Roman Republic (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1996), 166. 132. Ibid.; Sat. 2.3.16. 133. Timothy O’Sullivan, Walking in Roman Culture (Cambridge; New York: Cambridge University Press, 2011), 27; Ovid, Ars am. 3.297–306.

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Whereas for men the gait had the potential to indicate effeminacy and a lack of control of bodily comportment and thus the intellect, for women the chief concern is that the gait can reveal lose morals or a sexual availability that a virgin of Christ should not be interested in. As Timothy O’Sullivan notes, the female gait that is to be avoided or curtailed for early Christian authors is perceived as not that dissimilar to that used for effeminate males.134 Both genders are deemed to demonstrate a lack of control if their gait is too “soft” or too loose (rather than an economy of movement), and both denote the character of being sexually promiscuous. O’Sullivan cites several examples of the gait of the unscrupulous woman by ancient authors in contrast to the gait of the modest or chaste one. Catullus informs his reader that he will be able to recognize his “disgraceful adulteress [moecha turpis]” by way of her “disgraceful walk [turpe incedere].”135 O’Sullivan observes that “just as the physical (‘ugly’) and moral (‘disgraceful’) senses of turpis are indistinguishable, Lesbia’s stride and character are one and the same.”136 Cicero also comments on gait as one of the indications of a promiscuous woman, although again specifics are (quite unfortunately) not mentioned. In his lambasting of Clodia, he likens her to a prostitute given her physical comportment and social behavior, including “not only in the way she walks, but also in her getup and in her choice of companions.”137 For a positive exemplar, O’Sullivan cites the second century B.C.E. funerary inscription of the noblewoman Claudia, presumably erected by her widower. Among the traditional female positive traits accorded to her as a chaste matron, she “had an agreeable way of walking [incessu commodo].”138 As O’Sullivan observes, “As we saw in descriptions of the elite male body, the elite female should comport herself with moderation: commodus conveys a sense of the viewer’s pleasure at seeing everything in proportion, in its right place, observing the appropriate limit (modus). Claudia’s walk is commodus because it advertises her moderation more generally.”139 As Shaw suggests, citing John Chrysostom, “[the ideal female] walk, of course, is in no way provocative or loose, but is also subject to the discipline and control that mark the virgin’s self-presentation.”140 Clement, although speaking of lay Christian women, also stresses the importance of decorum in walking, combined with other related activities, and again, how her comportment reflect on her male connections:  “A virtuous woman is a crown to her husband [citing Prov. 12.4]. They must, as far as possible, correct their gestures, looks, steps, and speech. For

134. O’Sullivan, Walking, 27. 135. 42.8, cited by O’Sullivan, Walking, 22. 136. O’Sullivan, Walking, 22. 137. Cael. 49, cited by O’Sullivan, Walking, 24. 138. CIL l2 1211, cited by O’Sullivan, Walking, 23. 139. O’Sullivan, Walking, 23. 140. Shaw, “Askesis,” 488; John Chrysostom, De Virg. 63.

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they must not do as some, who, imitating the acting of comedy, and practising the mincing motions of dancers, conduct themselves in society as if on stage, with voluptuous movements, and gliding steps, and affected voices, casting languishing glances around.”141 Clement also attests to this idea of the restraint of looseness indicating modesty, albeit throughout the whole body, quoting a passage of Zeno of Citium: “let her neck not be stretched back, nor the members of her body be lose. But let the parts that hang from the body looks as they were well strung; let there be the keenness of a well regulated mind for discourse . . . and let her attitudes and movements give no hope to the licentious, but let there be a bloom of modesty, and an expression of firmness.”142 Similarly, Ambrose exhorts sobriety of gait in early Christian virgin women, although he does not elaborate on what, precisely, this would look like.143 Athanasius and Augustine are a bit more specific, however. Athanasius states that the female gait should not be jerky like a crow’s,144 and Augustine forbids the virgin to either strut or shuffle—two extremes to be avoided, and thus a middling point between them is desired.145 The ideal walk is one that is neither too fast or too slow and is controlled, perhaps to indicate tight control over her body in general. The modest and chaste gait, it would seem, is one that is controlled with an economy of movement and is not (no pun intended) loose in any way. Jerome cites as a negative example fallen virgins, whose status as such is announced by their gait: [T]hese are the women who walk conspicuously in public and by means of the furtive nods of their eyes drag a flock of young men after them . . . They may have only a thin bit of purple on their clothing, their head may be loosely veiled so that their hair falls down, their footwear is somewhat cheap and the shawl flies off their upper arms, the tunic is drawn back and clings to their forearms and they may have a loose-kneed exhausted gait [solutis genibus fractus incessus]: this is the sum total of their virginity.146

Citing this passage, O’Sullivan observes that for Jerome “the gait is as much an index of sexual availability as a woman’s gestures and her clothing. For the gait is in some way gesture in motion, and the danger, for Jerome, is that the wanton woman may turn into a pied piper of sexual allure, taking flocks of upstanding young

141. Paed. 3.11 (ANF 2:287). 142. Paed. 3.11 (ANF 2:289). 143. Virginit. 3.3.13 (NPNF2 10:383). 144.  Letter to the Virgins, cited by Neil Adkin, Jerome on Virginity: A Commentary on the Libellus de Virginitate Servanda (Letter 22) (Cambridge:  Francis Cairns, 2003), 333, who also notes that Gregory of Nazianzus held that a haughty gait was incompatible with virginity (ibid.). 145. Treatise on Virginity 53, 54. Both of these are also cited by Adkin, “Teaching,” 886. 146. Epist. 22.13; also cited by and translation taken from O’Sullivan, Walking in Roman Culture, 26.

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Roman men with her.”147 He further suggests that “the lax knees of the so-called virgins renders their gait ‘exhausted’ or more literally ‘broken,’ clearly a lapse from some ideal ‘unbroken’ gait and a physical indicator of their compromised sexual standards.”148 He further suggests that “[t]his description does not just suggest that there is a ‘broken’ female gait and a whole one: rather, dissolute females (and effeminate males) as a whole are susceptible to a type of gait that is deformed or broken vis-a-vis the male gait.”149 Yet, I  would suggest that Jerome’s concern is not only with the young men themselves that will become ensnared by a lapsed Christian woman with such a walk, but he is also concerned with early Christian women being blamed for having done so, and to in turn to demarcate Christian women as exemplars of the chaste Greco-Roman ideal. Tertullian also demonstrates an interest in the chaste walk of a Christian woman demarcating her from others. On the topic of modesty, he stipulates the method of gait as being an important component of this: “for now we will speak not about sexual modesty . . . but about things that pertain to it, that is, how you should walk.”150 While Tertullian claims that his instructions are for the women’s own good (their chastity being their salvation, after all), he also makes it clear that it is also for the benefit of the men around them:  “Your salvation, by which I  mean the salvation not only of women but also of men, is based on your demonstration of sexual modesty.”151 However, as O’Sullivan aptly states, “female modesty (now a more specific trait than Roman modesty, and principally about the avoidance of sex) is as much about men as it is about women. Christian women must advertise their modesty in their bodily gestures, lest they give the impression that they are available for sex.”152 On this passage, O’Sullivan also notes that for Tertullian “male modesty is contingent in some basic way on female modesty: if women are not careful to deny their bodily allure, how can men be expected to control themselves in their presence?”153 This is quite clear Tertullian’s assertions to women in this same work: “For that other [male], as soon as he has felt concupiscence after your beauty, and has mentally already committed (the act) which his concupiscence pointed to, perishes; and you have been made the sword which destroys him: so that, albeit you are free from the (actual) crime, you are not free form the odium (attaching to it).”154 Related to this, while conceding that female beauty is not in and of itself inherently evil, it is to be feared for the power it yields over men, and Tertullian exhorts women who might be physically attractive to attempt to disguise this fact: “Let a holy woman, if naturally beautify, give none so great occasion (for carnal appetite). Certainly, if she is so, she ought not to set off (her beauty), but 147. O’Sullivan, Walking, 26. 148. Ibid. 149. Ibid. 150. Cult. fem. 2.1 (ANF 4:18); also cited by O’Sullivan, Walking, 25 nt. 45. 151. Cult. fem. 2.1. 152. O’Sullivan, Walking, 25. 153. Ibid., 26. 154. Cult. fem. 2.2 (ANF 4:19).

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even to obscure it.”155 However, the woman must be careful she does not got too far in the other direction, which would no doubt also cause censure from external detractors: “these suggestions are not made to you, of course, to be developed into an entire crudity and wildness of appearance; nor are we seeking to persuade you of the good of squalor and slovenliness; but of the limit and norm and just measure of cultivation of the person.”156 For Tertullian, this demonstration of measured female chastity is to be done not only for its own sake but also as a means to demonstrate the superior modesty of early Christian women, making a contrast with the gait of pagan women explicit. He speaks of Christian women who do not adhere to the ideal, stating that they wear in their gait the self-same appearance as the women of the nations, from whom the sense of true modesty is absent . . . for if any modesty can be believed to exist in Gentiles, it is plain that it must be imperfect and undisciplined to such a degree that . . . it allows itself to relax into licentiousness of attire . . . it is necessary that you turn aside from them, as in all other things, so also in your gait since you ought to be perfect, as your father who is in the heavens.157

The standards of perfection that the Christian woman must aspire to are not merely part of her identity as a Christian and salvation for its own sake but also to clearly demarcate her from pagan contemporaries.

Voice As the exemplar of Mary makes quite clear, speech was to be kept to a minimum for the ideal Christian woman. Ambrose explains his rationale for preferring church members not to engage in conversation with virgins:  “modesty is worn away by discourse and boldness breaks forth, laughter creeps in, and bashfulness is lessened . . . I should prefer, therefore, that conversation should rather be wanting to a virgin than abound.”158 For virgins themselves, Ambrose commands (as previously noted) that “let virginity first be announced by the voice, let modesty close the mouth.”159 He also cites Susanna as an exemplar, asserting that she was silent even in danger, fearing more the loss of her modesty (in speaking) than the loss of her life.160 Regarding talking during church Ambrose again holds Mary up as an exemplar: “For Mary, as we read, kept in her heart all things that

155. Cult. fem. 2.3 (ANF 4:20). 156. Cult. fem. 2.5 (ANF 4:20). 157. Cult. fem. 2.1 (ANF 4:19). 158. Virginit. 3.3.1 (NPNF2 10:382). 159. Virginit. 3.3.13 (NPNF2 10:383). 160.  Although this reference may be applicable to male clergy as well, given that it is from Off. 1.68.

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were said concerning her son [Luke 2.19] and do you, when any passage is read where Christ is announced as about to come, or is shown to have come, not make noise by talking, but attend.”161 In his Off., he also praises Mary’s silence when she encountered the angel Gabriel announcing her pregnancy: “though she was humble, yet it was not because of this, but on account of her modesty, that she did not return his salutation, nor give him any answer except to ask, when she had learned that should conceive the Lord, how this should be. She certainly did not speak merely for the sake of making a reply.”162 As Shaw observes, “even the virgin’s speaking and listening are limited as part of a sparseness and economy of movement and gesture that signify her detachment from worldly manners and concerns,” citing Ambrose’s use of Mary as an exemplar.163 Tertullian also privileges vocal restraint to the point of refraining from speech altogether, advising the virgins in his community to “paint your mouth with silence.”164 Consequently, apart from commands to silence or very infrequent speech, there is little by way of recommendation regarding tone or pitch. No doubt doing so would only undermine their exhortations to silence.

Countenance: Blushes and Gaze As Carly Daniel-Hughes observes, “Roman writers often imagined sexual virtues like modesty [pudicitia] and chastity [castitas], and emotional states that attended them, especially shame [pudor], as conspicuous embodied signs. A blush [rubor] and a down-turned countenance were special markers of a matron’s moral disposition.”165 For Christian female ascetics—the dutiful and chaste wives of Christ—this was also an exhortation in bodily comportment. Ambrose praises a virgin at Antioch who was willing to undergo martyrdom but not the sacrifice of her chastity for her “blushes at being looked upon” by spectators during her ordeal.166 As noted above, a “bashful countenance” was one of the signs that should proclaim a virgin’s status as such to him. Gregory of Nazianzus praises his sister’s excellence of character and avoidance of ornamentation, stating that “one red tint was dear to her, the blush of modesty; one white one, the sign of temperance.”167

161. Virginit. 3.3.11 (NPNF2 10:383). 162. Off. 1.18.69. 163. Shaw, “Askesis,” 488. 164. Cult. fem. 2.13 (ANF 4:25). 165.  Carly Daniel-Hughes, Salvation of the Flesh in Tertullian of Carthage: Dressing for the Resurrection (New York: Palgrave Macmillan), 99. 166.  Virginit. 2.4.23 (NPNF2 10:377). Similarly, he states that while Christians do not value beauty in body, “on the other hand, we do recognize a certain grace, as when modesty is wont to cover the face with a blush of shame, and to make it more pleasing” (Off. 1.18.83). 167.  77–9 Carm.U 2.6; also cited by Koen De Temmerman, “Blushing Beauty: Characterizing Blushes in Chariton’s Callirhoe,” Mnemosyne 60 (2007): 245.

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Similarly, in his “Against Cosmetics,” Gregory states, “For women, there is one lovely flower, the noble blushing, modesty.”168 In his “For Olympias,” he writes, “Let virginal modesty before your husband [Jesus] drop a pure blushing beneath your eyes. Offer blushing to those who watch you, your eyes fixed and your eyebrow downward.”169 As this passage attests, in addition to the blush the lowered gaze was also of physiognomic import to indicate chastity and modesty. Bremmer notes the gender implications of the lowered gaze in antiquity: “the gaze of a modest maiden should be downcast . . . but it is typically the manly Amazon who carries the name Antiope, or ‘She who looks straight into the face.’ ”170 Seneca’s comments indicate that this downcast eye as indication of feminine modesty was required of married women as well: “A matron who wants to oppose the lust of a seducer . . . Let her keep her eyes down; when people insist on greeting her she should prefer to seem rude rather than immodest.”171 Summarizing this view, Langlands states that “a woman who hopes to avert a bad reputation must keep her eyes down and refrain from meeting the gaze of others, her look should not be seen.”172 She notes that one of the anecdotes about Caligula centered around his stripping matrons of this chaste gesture by physically pulling their heads up meet his eye: “if there is a woman who is directed by pudor, who keeps her eyes upon the ground as a matrona should in the presence of a man who is not her husband, the Caligula will physical coerce her to divert herself of this sight of pudicitia.”173 Cicero lambasts Clodia’s purported sexually lasciviousness via a variety of physiognomic and other traits, including “the flash of her eyes [flagrantia oculorum].”174 So, too, was this valorized for early Christian women. Of the same virgin he discusses above, Ambrose further notes that she avoided looking on the face of men and advices his audience that “there is also modesty in the glance of the eye, which makes a woman unwilling to look upon men, or be seen by them.”175 Athanasius, in his letter to virgins, uses Mary as an exemplar in

168. vv 255–56, cited by De Temmerman, “Blushing Beauty,” 245. 169. 77–79 (Carm.U 2.6); also cited by De Temmerman, “Blushing Beauty,” 245. 170. O’Sullivan, “Walking,” 22. 171. Contr. 2.7.3; translation taken from R. Langlands, Sexual Morality in Ancient Rome (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006), 71. 172. Ibid., 72. 173. Ibid., 356. 174.  Translation taken from Langlands, Sexual Morality, 70; Cic. Cael. 49. Of course, the lowered gaze could also on occasion indicate chastity in males, too. In his To the Newly Baptized, Clement tells men to be “modest towards women, and let your glance be turned to the ground”). Langlands discusses an instance in Valerius Maximus (6.1.7) where a boy was sexually victimized, yet being tried for being an instigator: “the young man is manifestly pudicus; he acts the part perfectly with his shame-faced silence and his eyes fixed on the ground” (Sexual Morality, 168). 175. Off 1.18.68. While privileged especially in women, in some instances the downcast eye of male was deemed appropriate, as noted above.

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this regard as well: “[she was] reverent in her dress and in the gaze of her eyes as well . . . she did not gaze at external things with her eyes.”176 This likely indicates there her eyes were fixed on the ground, not taking in her surrounding as she would have had they been lifted. The downturned glance and blush were key physiognomic indicators of female chastity, and early Christian authors exhorted Christian women to demonstrate their superiority by adopting these external physical traits.

Conclusions Early Christians were no different from their pagan counterparts in utilizing physiognomic principles for self-presentation to depict themselves as morally superior. Where they do diverge, it is in upping the ante of the already established paradigms. Self-comportment that aligned with physiognomic ideals allowed early Christians a means of demonstrating the moral superiority of their group, in a way that was visually observable to outsiders. The exhortations to women ascetics allowed male authors to further demonstrate the superiority of their group, in that their women were visibly more chaste than their pagan counterparts—or so the rhetoric went—and thus further contributed to the increase of status for these men themselves.

176. Virig. 15.

Chapter 4 T H E P H YSIO G N OM Y O F A M A RT Y R

While the previous chapter examined instances of model behavior for early Christians in day-to-day life, here I turn to more specific circumstances of comporting the body and physiognomic presentation in some of the martyrdom accounts. While several of the positive physical aspects identified previously are still applicable in these texts, given the extenuating circumstances of these accounts some traits that might not otherwise be deemed laudable are presented as praiseworthy in these instances. The most noteworthy example of this is the gender ambiguity of female martyrs. As Cobb has demonstrated, many of these texts masculinize aspects of the female martyrs, yet also simultaneously reinforce their femininity. As the previous chapter has shown, demure and typically feminine idealized traits and comportment were extolled for Christian women in day-to-day life. However, in the context of martyrdom narratives, masculine traits that demonstrated bravery and self-control in female martyrs were not only acceptable but even desirable. Later Christian authors, naturally, would try to tone down or remove implications of masculinity regarding these female figures.1 Much work has been done addressing the significant role that representations of gender have for many of the martryologies, and of course depictions of gender and idealized gender traits are also one of the principle interests of physiognomy. Thus, I do not seek to replicate the important work that has already been done on the subject, particularly on the Martyrdom of Polycarp2 and that of Perpetua 1.  See, for example, Barbara K. Gold, “Remaking Perpetua:  A Female Martyr Reconstructed,” in Sex in Antiquity:  Exploring Gender and Sexuality in the Ancient World, ed. Mark Masterson, Nancy Sorkin Rabinowitz, James Robson (London; New York: Routledge, 2015), 482–99, especially 490–93; Petr Kitzler, “Viri mirantur failius quam imitanture:  Passio Perpetuae in the Literature of the Ancient Church (Tertullian, Acta martyrum, and Augustine),” in The Ancient Novel and Early Christian and Jewish Narrative: Fictional Intersections, ed. Marília P. Futre Pinheiro, Judith Perkins, and Richard Pervo (Groningen: Barkhuis, 2012), 189–201. 2.  The Martyrdom of Polycarp is one of the few early Christian texts that has received interpretation for utilizing ancient physiognomic thought. See Karl Olav Sandnes, Early Christian Discourses on Jesus’ Prayer at Gethsemane:  Courageous, Committed, Cowardly? (Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2016), and Matthiji den Dulk and Andrew Langford, “Polycarp and Polemo:  Christianity at the Centre of the Second Sophistic,” in The History of Religions

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and Felicity, but by contextualizing some of the details in these narratives with aspects of ancient physiognomic thought, I do hope to supplement it. In addition to this, this chapter will also examine physiognomic representation in other texts where it has not received the attention it warrants:  the Martyrs of Lyons that simultaneously evidences typical physiognomic thought as well as its inversion, the Martyrdom of Pionius that uses physiognomy to reinforce the protagonist’s character of participating in the male realm of public speaking and philosophic thought, the agonistic contest between torturer and tortured in Prudentius, and the invariable method of physiognomy used by Eusebius to underscore the strong moral character of some of the martyrs of Palestine.

Forms of Persuasion in the Martyrdom Narratives Much recent scholarship has addressed the Martyrdom narratives less as historical documentation and more as a socially constructed discourse that sought to contribute to early Christian identity making.3 My approach likewise focuses less on the historical accuracy (or the potential lack thereof) and more on the discursive and rhetorical function these texts would have had for their immediate early Christian audiences. Judith Perkins discusses the pedagogical role that early martyrdom accounts served for their audience:  “During their basic Christian formation, neophytes would be instructed on how martyrs should behave based on the model of Christ and the earlier martyrs who had endured persecution. If they themselves should encounter persecution, they would already possess a script both for their own behavior and for interpretation of their sufferings.”4 Part of the behavior of the martyrs that would have been observed and encouraged to emulate would have been their physical comportment in the face of torture and death. By representing these figures as manifesting physiognomic ideals that attest to bravery, nobility, and good character, audiences of the text would be persuaded to emulate them, should they find themselves in similar situations, thus maintaining

School Today: Essays on the New Testament and Related Ancient Mediterranean Texts, ed. Thomas R. Blanton IV, Robert Matthew Calhoun, and Clare K. Rothschild (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2014), 211–40. 3.  To note but a few examples:  Barbara K. Gold, “And I  became a Man:  Gender Fluidity and Closure in Perpetua’s Prison Narrative,” in Roman Literature, Gender, and Reception:  domina illustris. Essays in Honor of Judith Peller Hallett (London; New  York: Routledge, 2013), 153–65; Candida Moss, The Other Christs:  Imitating Jesus in Ancient Christian Ideologies of Martyrdom (New York; Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010); L. Stephanie Cobb, Dying to be Men: Gender and Language in Early Christian Martyr Texts (New York: Columbia University Press), 2008. 4.  Judith Perkins, “Perpetua’s vas: Asserting Christian Identity,” in Group Identity and Religious Individuality in Late Antiquity, eds. Éric Rebillard and Jörg Rüpke (Washington, DC: The Catholic University of America Press, 2015), 144.

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early Christian physiognomic excellence even in (or perhaps especially in) dire circumstances. Leonard L. Thompson notes the representations of physicality in these texts as components to edify and potentially emulate:  “the martyrologies themselves became recipes for exemplary behavior at the trials and executions, for example, how to respond to questions, what gestures to make and what facial expressions to wear, and how to display suffering as normative, not abnormal.”5 My contention is that in these representations the martyrs proclaimed empirically their noble character and that this would have relevance for Christian collective identity formation and how they were perceived by outsiders. Representing the martyrs who were so significant in this endeavor as, for the most part, physiognomically unimpeachable was an important component of this discourse in a society permeated by a physiognomic consciousness.

Martyrdom as an Agonistic Contest on the Landscape of the Body While several of the texts addressed in this chapter proclaim a disinterest in the body, indeed, maintain that soul will transcend it, they also simultaneously reinforce the importance of it. This is not wholly unlike (albeit to a much greater extreme) those of a philosophic mindset, where disdain for the body served as proof for their dedication to this lifestyle. For example, in one breath, Prudentius can speak of death as that “which sets the soul free from the prison of the body” and in the next that through martyrdom “the soul has been purified with blood.”6 The soul requires the body for the former to occur. More specifically, in the comportment of the body in situations of physical testing and persecution, the body is an important locale as a site of self-control and in turn cultivation of the soul. Cobb observes that many of the martyrologies “employed the rhetoric of self-control to reveal the lack of masculinity of the pagan persecutors; conversely, the possession of selfcontrol underscores the masculinity of the Christians.”7 I would add that this is also manifest via physiognomic conventions, and that these have not received as much attention as they warrant. The tortured Christian can “win” physiognomically via bodily comportment and appearance; persecutors can “lose” by losing control of their bodily demeanor and all the implications of emasculation that this entailed in antiquity.8 This torture as a contest with physiognomic leanings is perhaps mostly clearly explicated in an excerpt from Prudentius: 5. Leonard L. Thompson, “The Martyrdom of Polycarp: Death in the Roman Games,” JR 82, no. 1 (2002): 27–52, 41. 6.  Prudentius, Crowns of Martyrdom. Translated by H. J. Thomson. Loeb Classical Library (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1995), V.357–62. 7. Cobb, Dying, 86. 8.  One rather startling exception to this pattern regarding gender is the martyrdom of Agnes, narrated by Prudentius (Crowns of Martyrdom, 14.71–72), who elsewhere demonstrates more typical physiognomic thought. Agnes sees the executioner, a “grim figure” and remarks that “I rejoice that there comes a man like this, a savage, cruel, wild

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But the soldier of God [Vincent] laughed at these commands [that he was to be further tortured], rebuking the blood-stained hand because the claw thrust into him did not enter more deeply into his body. And now the strong men [robur fortium] had used up all their powers in tearing him to pieces, their panting exertion had tired and relaxed the muscles of their arm; but Vincent was only the more cheerful, his countenance all unclouded and bright, being lit up with the sight of thy presence, O Christ. “What look is this? Oh shame!” cried Datianus in a passion [furens]. “He is joyful and smiling! It is a challenge [provocat]! The tortured is bolder [acrior] than the torturer!9

When an individual or group is the winner in this challenge, this is manifest in “good” physiognomy; the loser is confirmed with “bad” physiognomy. When the tortured person is female, the stakes are even higher and gender and potential emasculation come to the forefront lest the torturer be, as Tacitus states regarding a comparative situation, “defeated by a woman.”10 This contest between tortured and torturer, and who could retain bodily superiority, was not limited to early Christian circles. Rather, it was part of a broader discourse of bodily negotiation in the ancient world.11 Cobb also observes that the tendency to masculinize and simultaneously feminize particular valorous women also had non-Christian parallels in antiquity—far from subverting broader ideologies, early Christians were to some degree conforming to and capitalizing on them.12 man-at-arms, rather than a listless, soft, womanish youth bathed in perfume [lannguidus ac tener mollisque ephebus tinctus aromate], coming to destroy me with the death of my honour. This lover, this one at last, I confess it, pleases me.” The sexual nature of this passage is observed by Danuta Shanzer, “Latin Literature, Christianity and Obscenity in the Later Roman West,” in Medieval Obscenities, ed. Nicola McDonald (York:  York Medieval Press, 2014), 179–202; 199. Rather than effeminizing the opponent, in this text he is stipulated not to have these characteristics. However, in the description of the soldier being “savage and cruel,” it is clear that this is not a positive assessment, either. 9.  Prudentius, Crowns of Martyrdom, V.117–32; [LCL]. Evans notes Prudentius’s use of physiognomy, 89–90. 10.  Ann. 15.571–74; cited by Edwards 203–4. Here Epicharis, the torture victim, is not only female, but a slave as well. Tacitus relates that initially Nero thought that “her female body would be unable to endure pain” before ordering the torture. Here, too, the torturers employ progressively harsher means to try to cause Epicharis to break—she ultimately defeats them by committing suicide, in this situation considered to be a noble and triumphant act. 11. Edwards discusses martyrdom accounts in parallel with Greco-Roman appreciation for voluntary acceptance of death (Catherine Edwards, Death in Ancient Rome [New Haven, Conn.; London: Yale University Press, 2007], 209–10). 12.  Cobb, Dying, 11–14; See also Edwards, Death, 187–94; Anders Klostergaard Petersen, “Gender Bending in Early Jewish and Christian Martyr Texts,” in Contextualizing Early Christian Martyrdom, ed. Jakob Engberg, Uffe Holmsgaard Eriksen, and Anders Klostergaard Petersen (Frankfurt: Peter Lang, 2011); and Craig Williams, “Perpetua’s Gender.

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Physiognomy in the Martyrdom of Polycarp The masculinization of Polycarp in this narrative has also been copiously discussed, and more specifically the role of physiognomic thought to help portray this has also been addressed.13 While these observations are highly insightful, I  suggest that one physiognomic aspect of Polycarp’s facial expression could benefit from further discussion. The text relates that the proconsul attempted to have Polycarp renounce his faith and say “away with the atheists,” meaning Christians. Polycarp’s response is narrated: “Then Polycarp with a solemn countenance looked upon the whole multitude of lawless heathen that were in the stadium, and waved his hand to them; and groaning and looking up to heaven he said, ‘Away with the Atheists.’ ”14 den Dulk and Langford interpret the first gaze as in keeping with self-fashioning among the second sophistic, typical for a speaker and used to gather his thoughts before a speech.15 As for the second gaze toward heaven, they suggest that in combination with Polycarp’s groaning the text is most likely drawing a parallel with the depiction of Jesus in Mark 7.34.16 While I agree that there is likely influence from Mark’s text, I also suggest that there is a broader physiognomic understanding that extends beyond this particular New Testament passage. Moreover, Polycarp’s upturned gaze would not have been viewed as a sign of impudence, as Robert Lane Fox argues regarding this phenomenon among other early Christian martyrs, predicated on the physiognomic manuals, nor, I  propose, was it primarily a form of resistance, as Nicola Denzey suggests.17 Rather, quite the opposite: an upward gaze toward the heavens or sky had a broad cultural understanding as a gesture of piety (regardless of which deity was being appealed to) from the Hellenistic period and beyond. Alexander the Great was portrayed with such a gaze, as were Roman emperors, and even up until the Middle Ages saints were portrayed this way in both visual and literary mediums.18 L’Orange notes this gaze

A Latinist Reads the Passio Perpetuae et Felicitatis,” in Perpetua’s Passions: Multidisciplinary Approaches to the Passio Perpetuae et Felicitatis, ed. Jan Bremmer and Marco Formisano (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012), 54–77. 13.  Sandnes, Early Christian Discourses; and den Dulk and Langford, “Polycarp and Polemo.” 14. 9.2, text and translation from Lightfoot. 15. den Dulk and Langford, “Polycarp,” 29. 16. Ibid., 30. 17. Nicola Denzey, “Facing the Beast: Justin, Christian Martyrdom, and Freedom of the Will,” in Stoicism in Early Christianity, ed. Tuomas Rasimus, Troels Engberg-Pedersen, and Ismo Dunderberg (Grand Rapids, Mich.:  Baker, 2010), 176–98, 185; Fox reference taken from ibid. 18.  H.P. L’Orange, Apotheosis in Ancient Portraiture (New  York:  Caratzas Brothers, 1982), 16.

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still has this connotation, but that “it had an especially suggestive power in antiquity . . . we see the orant in ancient art in this position, in pagan statues, on Christian sarcophagi, in the art of the catacombs.”19 While often this gesture was accompanied by hands being stretched upward in supplication as L’Orange observes, in the case of the narrative of Polycarp there are plausible reasons why his gaze is not accompanied by this. First, and perhaps most pertinent, his hands are already engaged in gesturing to the “atheists.”20 Second, in a text that is so preoccupied with demonstrating Polycarp’s masculinity, it is unlikely that the author would run the risk of potentially undermining this, given that upturned hands could also be viewed as sign of effeminacy.21 In any case, numerous other texts depict an upward gaze as a pious gesture without a description of supplicating arms: Stephen who looks up to heaven to see the glory of God and Jesus standing at his right side,22 the aforementioned reference to Jesus,23 the martyrdom of Pionius,24 and although also of a later date, the bust and coins depicting Constantine. While Eusebius insists that such a gaze is indicative of Christian piety in particular,25 it is impossible to determine if Constantine had a specific religion in mind, especially in view of the prior exemplars of the Hellenistic age.26 However, Eusebius represents him as a Christian whose piety was physiognomically observable. He relates that Constantine would gather assemblies and that before the crowd of onlookers, “in the course of his speech any occasion offered for touching on sacred topics, he immediately stood erect, with a grave aspect and subdued tone of voice . . . when they [the audience] greeted him with shouts of acclamation, he directed them by his gesture to raise their eyes to heaven, and reserve their admiration for the Supreme King alone.”27 Thus, Polycarp’s upward gaze is better understood as a physiognomic portrayal of piety, demonstrating his loyalty and courage in the crucial minutes before he is sentenced to death.

19. Ibid. 20. Mart. Poly. 9.2. 21. See Jan. N. Bremmer, “Walking, Standing, and Sitting in Ancient Greek Culture,” in A Cultural History of Gesture: From Antiquity to the Present Day, ed. Jan N. Bremmer and Herman Roodenburg (Cambridge:  Polity Press, 1991), 22, who cites Ps.-Aristotle, 808a, among other ancient authors who attest to this perspective. 22. Acts 7.55, also cited by L’Orange, Apotheosis, 16. 23. Also cited by L’Orange, Apotheosis, 16, who contrasts this with the self-recriminating tax collector who didn’t dare to lift his eyes to heaven as he prayed (Luke 18.13; L’Orange, Apotheosis, 16). 24. 21.2, discussed below. 25. Life of Constantine, 15. 26.  Jonathan Bardill, Constantine, Divine Emperor of the Christian Golden Age (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012), 19. 27. Life of Constantine, 29.

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Gender Ambiguity and a Physiognomic Reading of Perpetua The valorization of masculine characteristics actualized by male martyrs has been observed by many scholars, as has the gender ambiguity of female martyrs who in situations of persecution are presented as acquiring some of these masculine traits for themselves, but still remaining women.28 On the account of the martyrdom of Blandina, Anders Klostergaard Petersen remarks that “Blandina overcomes the constraints of her gender . . . [she] has been transformed into a male athlete of Christ, but the text does not neglect that Blandina physically continues to be a woman. There is an ongoing negotiation between the hybrid gender of Blandina. While acknowledging her manly virtues, the text simultaneously emphasises Blandina as a noble mother and as a second Eve triumphing over the crooked serpent.”29 Cobb observes that this masculinization of female martyrs was key to flouting the superiority of Christians, in that these narratives portray Christian women defeating non-Christian men.30 However, given cultural unease regarding the image of masculinized women, these portrayals also simultaneously sought to highlight these figures as women. She remarks, “This masculinity . . . when embodied in female Christians, was as dangerous as it was necessary, and thus it demanded mitigation.”31 She identifies two different situations that this hybridity was a response to: external threats where this masculinization could demonstrate the superiority of Christian to outsider, and internal (i.e., among other Christians) norms where typical ideals of femininity were prescribed for female members. She states that “it appears to have been unacceptable for the authors of these martyrologies to describe Christian women as being masculine . . . at all times. The shift between masculinization and feminization in these narratives illustrates a communal concern over appropriate roles for women in two distinct situations, internal and intracommunal.”32 This is certainly accurate, and attention to physiognomic details adds further support to this assessment. The figure of Perpeptua with her gender bending vision of becoming a man has received much attention in this regard. Stephanie Cobb rightfully argues that the depiction of her by the narrator33 is one of gender hybridity, rather than solely a masculine or feminine description. Cobb observes numerous instances in the text,

28. To cite but a very few: Cobb, Dying; Gold, “I Became a Man”; and Edwards, Death. 29.  Petersen, “Gender Bending,” 250. He observes similar gender slippage in the narrative figure of Perpetua. 30. Cobb, Dying, 92. 31. Ibid., 121. 32. Cobb, Dying, 93. 33.  Who prefaces the work and concludes it by the narrative account of her and the other martyr’s actions in the arena and subsequent death. Cobb similarly argues that this is also the case in Perpetua’s own account, but here my focus is on the bookending narrative account.

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including Perpetua’s own account, of how both typical feminine and masculine traits are exhibited simultaneously.34 Adding further support to her conclusions is a physiognomic reading of Perpetua’s interaction with the imperial official and her approach to and conduct in the amphitheater. The narrator states that he will give “one example of her perseverance and nobility of soul” before relating her exchange with the tribune concerning her and her fellow Christians’ conditions in prison.35 Perpetua “spoke to him directly [in faciem . . . respondit]” and her arguments shame him for his previous treatment of the group: “the officer became disturbed and grew red [horruit et erubuit].”36 The honor challenge is clear, and Perpetua’s victory in this is represented physiognomically. Perpetua does not lower her eyes but speaks to his face. In antiquity, a “woman could insult or challenge a man by looking at him.”37 The officer loses control of his bodily comportment: he trembles [horruit] and flushes—an indication of shame, and, as discussed, commonly associated with women. In participating in (and indeed winning) an honor-shame challenge that was typically considered to belong to the realm of men in antiquity, the masculinization of Perpetua is again apparent, observable in these physiognomic details. Regarding her approach to the amphitheater, the narrator states that “Perpetua went along with shining countenance and calm steps [lucido uultu et placido incessu], as the beloved of God, as a wife of Christ, putting down everyone’s stare by her own intense gaze [uigore oculorum deiciens omnium conspectum].”38 Cobb and others have noted this passage, and in particular that her gaze did not align with conventional understandings of femininity.39 This is certainly true 34. See Cobb, Dying, especially 94–111. 35.  16.2; text and translation from Herbert Musurill, The Acts of the Christian Martyrs (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1972). 36. 16.3. 37. Carlin Barton, “Being in the Eyes: Shame and Sight in Ancient Rome,” in The Roman Gaze:  Vision, Power and the Body, ed. David Fredrick (Baltimore, Md.:  Johns Hopkins University Press, 2002), 216–36, 234, nt. 52. Given the context of this look, it is clear that a sexually provocative meeting of the male eyes is not what is intended. 38.  18.2. A shining or luminous countenance seems to have been unisex in antiquity, to denote the presence of favor of the divine. See, for example, Prudentius, Crowns of Martyrdom, II.361–74, where he discusses Moses and Stephan’s luminous faces; Pionius discussed below; for a discussion of female protagonists being mistaken for deities in the Greek novels because of the luminosity of their appearance, see Meredith Warren, “A Robe Like Lightening: Clothing Changes and Identification in Joseph and Aseneth,” in Dressing Jews and Christians in Antiquity, ed. Alicia Batten, Carly Daniel-Hughes, and Kristi UpsonSaia (Surrey : Ashgate Press), 137–54, especially 144–49. 39. Brent D. Shaw also notes that this gaze is not a typical aspect of femininity, observing that “her ability to stare directly back into the faces of her persecutors, not with the elusive demeanor of a proper matron, broke with the normative body language in a way that signalled an aggressiveness that was not one of conventional femininity” (Brent D. Shaw, “The Passion of Perpetua,” P&P 139 [1993], 3–45, 4). However, he does not elaborate

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but could perhaps be elaborated on:  this gaze is not merely a bold one typical of masculinity, but it is also a challenge and one that Perpetua again wins. The Latin deiciens has aggressive alternative translations: “raze,” “tear down,” “destroy” as does καταβάλλουσα in the Greek recension of the text:  “over throw,” “strike down,” “bully.” If the male gaze indicated power, Perpetua is physiognomically portrayed as curtailing that power. Not only was a woman looking a man in the eyes potentially considered an insult or challenge, but, as noted in the previous chapter, lowered eyes were considered to be a key trait of feminine modesty, while of course they could also be indicative of male shame. This agonistic challenge of her eyes ultimately defeats and subjugates the spectators into lowering theirs. Yet, this masculine detail is also accompanied by what seems to be an ideal feminine walk. Her placido gait is translated as “calm” by Musurillo, which is apt, but it should be noted that this term also has undercurrents of the gentleness and softness of the ideal female Christian gait identified previously. In this brief description, physiognomically speaking, Perpetua is indeed depicted as simultaneously exhibiting both male and female idealized traits. A further instance of potential gender ambiguity could also be work in the narration of her contest with the heifer, though I stress that this is an extremely tentative suggestion. Perpetua’s demonstration of typically feminine concerns of modesty in pulling down her tunic and asking for a pin to tidy her hair has been noted.40 Prior to these actions, Musurillo’s translation reads that she “fell on her back [in lumbos].” I suggest that perhaps older translations might be more accurate in translating this as “loins.”41 While of course the term “loins” is applicable to women as well, it is perhaps noteworthy that in the early Christian tradition, references to loins almost unanimously refer to the capacity of male reproduction.42 Origen and Jerome both noted that references to the lumbus in the Hebrew Bible served as euphemisms for male genitalia,43 thus making these part of the early Christian interpretive tradition. Gold has noted that Perpetua’s vision of her fight with the Egyptian contains several instances of phallic language,44 and the narrator who composed the section under present discussion evidently did not feel a need to remove these. While I would not wish to push this potential interpretation too far, given the gender ambiguity already identified in the text, it is perhaps worth

significantly beyond this observation. Similarly, Cobb does juxtapose Perpetua’s gaze with physiognomic thought, determining it to be masculine (Dying, 106–7), but she does not consider her feminine gait or the potential “feminization” of the spectators as a result. 40. Cobb, Dying, 111. 41. Such as Roberts-Donaldson. 42.  See, for example, instances of the Greek equivalent ὀσφῦς (used in the Greek recension) in Matt 3.4; Mark 1.6; Luke 12.35; Acts 2.30, Eph 6.14.; Tertullian, De carne Christi, in vol. 3 of The Ante-Nicene Fathers, ed. Alexander Roberts and James Donaldson, 10 vols., 1885–87, Repr. (Peabody, Mass.: Hendrickson, 1994), Chs. 21–22. 43. Shanzer, “Latin Literature,” 191–92. 44. Gold, “Remaking,” 487.

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noting, especially since there are other nonambiguous terms for “back” that the author could have chosen instead.45 Indeed, Tertullian explicitly contrasts “back” with “loins” in writing of Moses’s wish to see God’s glory: “[God] says [to Moses] And then you shall see my back [posteriora mea]. Not loins [lumbos], or calves of the legs did he want to behold.”46 The hybridity of Perpetua’s gender becomes even more apparent when the physiognomic aspects of the text are taken into account.

Physiognomy in the Martyrs of Lyons There is a rather curious tension in this text regarding physiognomic thought. On one hand, the text relates what is seemingly at odds with physiognomic convention in its valorizing the slave Blandina, who is described as “tiny, weak, and insignificant,”47 yet on the other hand indicating that its author subscribes to its veracity in its representation of the physical differences between early Christians who denied their faith to avoid martyrdom and those who confessed it bravely. This tension can perhaps be potentially alleviated in an observation made by J. Albert Harrill. He remarks that “[t]his irony (sc. The contrast between her ugly appearance and the fact that she dies as a noble and beautiful spectacle of God’s power) extends to her very name (from the Latin: blandus, “cozening”, “insidious,” “insincere,”) . . . Her name is an etymological pun heightening the dramatic surprise.”48 Of course, by inverting physiognomic expectations and anticipating the surprise of the audience in doing so, the text demonstrates that it subscribes to more typical physiognomic understandings. This is shown elsewhere in the text where he employs typical physiognomic associations of goodness with attractiveness, and moral shortcomings with physical ugliness, in particular regarding lapsed Christians. Cobb examines the issue of why some martyrdom accounts would include examples of failed Christians such as these in the first place. Citing Jonathan Walters’s work on Juvenal’s Satires, she concludes that these negative examples served to polarize the two responses to persecution, one masculine and expected of its members, the other unmanly and shameful, in order to further group cohesion, by ostracizing and placing firmly outside its boundaries those who failed to hold steadfast.49 It is a “pre-emptive 45. tergem, to cite but one example. 46.  Against Marcion 4.22.15. Of course, in Christian Latin the femur is also used as a euphemism for either male or female genitalia (J. N. Adams, The Latin Sexual Vocabulary [Baltimore, Md.: John Hopkins Press, 1982], 51), although for Jerome it means solely female genitalia (ibid., 92). 47. Text and translation from Musurillo, 42. 48.  J. Albert Harrill, “The Domestic Enemy: A Moral Polarity of Household Slaves in Early Christian Apologies and Martyrdoms,” in Early Christian Families in Context, ed. David Balch and Caroline Osiek (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2003), 231–54, 250. 49. Cobb, Dying, 87–88.

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strike against antisocial behavior.”50 The representation of the failed and successful Christians in this text goes beyond gender, however, and is in keeping with broader physiognomic connections regarding character and physical attractiveness. The narrative relates that the lapsed Christians “were easily distinguished by their looks from all the others. The former [who did not deny their faith] advanced joyously, with majesty and great beauty mingled on their countenances . . . But the others were dejected, downcast, ill-favoured, and devoid of all comeliness.”51 Cobb notes that the physical description makes clear who is affiliated with Christianity and who is not, and further that the text relates that pagans were able to discern the physical differences between these groups, and cites their verbalized taunts of cowardice and unmanliness.52 Again, while her points are astute, more could be added from a physiognomic perspective: here the “good” Christians are beautiful, and the “bad” apostates are quite ugly. Their respective characters are primarily evaluated on courage to complete martyrdom and dedication (or not) to their faith, and it is empirically demonstrated in their appearance. The text states that it is the conscience of the latter that prompts this physical transformation, which might perhaps suggest to us the more redeemable moral character of regret. However, the text is clearly not sympathetic to these figures and so these stipulations of unattractiveness are likely meant to illustrate their dishonorable characters.

Physiognomy in the Martyrdom of Pionius This text also evinces physiognomic sentiment, including a rather unique physiognomic assessment after the martyr’s death. Prior to this, however, there are some additional physiognomic details. Pionius, whom Cobb has rightly argued is being portrayed in a wholly masculine way and even offering responses as a Stoic philosopher might,53 is depicted as making the typical hand gesture of an orator before embarking on a rather lengthy discourse before the crowds:  “stretching forth his hand [ἐκτείνας οὖν τὴν χεῖρα] [he] began his speech of defence.”54 As den Dulk and Langford have observed regarding the same gesture in the Martyrdom of Polycarp, the proper incorporation of hand gestures in oratory was emphasized in antiquity.55 Quintilian gives an extensive list of hand gestures that an orator might include to support a given rhetorical position.56 While the spectators speak derisively of the physical deportment and attributes of those with Pionius after they have been examined by imperial officials, on

50. Ibid., 87. 51. Mart. Lyons, 35. 52. Cobb, Dying, 89. 53. Ibid., 74, nt. 63. 54. 4.2, trans. Mursulo. 55. den Dulk and Langford, “Polycarp and Polemo,” 28. 56. On Oratory, 11.3.84–88.

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route to prison,57 they seem to be making a rather objective observation on his appearance:  “He has always looked so pale [χλωρὸς], but now look how ruddy [πυρρὸν] his complexion is!”58 As noted before, both pallor and ruddy cheeks could have negative connotations. However, here the pallor could be indicative of his philosophical character. Given that Pionius has just been resolutely attesting his status as a Christian, likely this ruddiness is indicative of the passionate nature with which he spoke and thus is a positive indication of his conviction regarding his position. Even after being tortured, Pionius’s body is physiognomically unimpeachable. While he moves with haste to the amphitheater to meet his death, the text makes clear that this is because of the “zeal of his faith” and thus is a positive form of comportment, rather than an effeminate one more typically ascribed to figures who move with a hurried gait. There he removes his clothes of his own volition, and does so gladly, rather than passively being stripped. After removing them he “realize[s] the holiness and dignity [ἀγνὸν καί εὔσχημον] of his own body . . . and looking up to heaven he gave thanks to God who had preserved him so; then he stretched himself out on the gibbet and allowed the soldier to hammer the nails.”59 Several points are noteworthy here. First, despite (or perhaps because of) suffering torture, his body is dignified, a positive physiognomic trait. Second, prior to giving himself over, he makes the pious gesture of the upward gaze. And finally, he “allows” the soldier to put in the nails. Pionius is portrayed as masculinly controlling the situation and like Perpetua, as Cobbs has observed,60 brings about his death of his own volition. Even after his death, his body reflects his self-control and comportment. Cobb describes this as his “undefeated . . . body.”61 She is quite right but again further elaboration can be offered. The narrator tells his audience that “[Pionius’s] crown was made manifest through his body. For after the fire had been extinguished, those of us who were present saw his body like that of an athlete in full array at the height of his powers. His ear were not distorted; his hair lay in order on the surface of his head; and his beard was full as though with the first blossom of hair. His face shone once again.”62 Cobb notes that the reference to the beard highlights his masculinity.63 So, too, does the reference to an athlete at the height of his powers. The nondistorted ears and orderly hair likely imply mastery of the body even in death and a physiognomic concern for well-ordered presentation of the body.

57. That ridicule is meant regarding Sabina’s holding onto Pionius’s clothing is indicated by the text that it states they made this claim in jest (10.3), and the description of Asclepiades as a “little fellow” (10.5). 58. Mart. Pion., 10.2. 59. Ibid., 21.2. 60. Cobb, Dying, 178. 61. Ibid., 85. 62. Mart. Pion., 22.2–4. 63. Cobb, Dying, 159, nt. 165.

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The luminosity that conveys divine favor or presence is restored to his face. For Pionius, his triumph in the contest of martyrdom is physiognomically displayed.

The Contest in Prudentius Cobb has noted several instances where the persecutor, imperial official, or torturer lose control of their deportment and are subsequently emasculated, especially in contrast with the self-regulated comportment of a given martyr.64 Prudentius offers a particularly physiognomically rich portrait of a similar incident, again in relation to the martyrdom of Vincent. Having been tortured and withstanding it with impressive fortitude, Vincent informs the persecutor that worse punishment awaits him as divine punishment. The persecutor’s response is visceral: “Stricken with these words the persecutor turns first pale, then red [saucius pallet, rubescit], and in the heat of his passion rolls his eyes frantically this way and that [aestuat insane torquens lumina], gnashing his teeth and foaming at the mouth [spumasque frendens egerit].”65 The turning pale likely indicates fear; the turning red, in view of the “heat of his passion,” is likely prompted by anger that he is physiognomically unable to conceal. The gnashing of teeth, a common phrase in the New Testament, likely denotes anguish. As noted previously, eye rolling carried with it connotations of madness. Foaming at the mouth was likewise an indication of madness or demon possession and loss of control over one’s body more generally speaking.66 The persecutor’s madness and lack of control is no mere allegation of Prudentius per se; rather, he proves it physiognomically via his physical description. Vincent, by contrast, when threated with torture bears it bravely, keeping his body under his control as he walks eagerly toward further physical torment.

Eusebius and the Martyrs of Palestine Eusebius’s physiognomic interest in the martyrs he discusses is more of the invariable form rather than the invariable that has been the type predominantly under discussion so far. Eusebius was no stranger to physiognomy and employed it for rhetorical purposes in other works,67 so it seems unlikely that his references to the physical

64. Cobb, Dying, 86. 65. V.201–4. 66. See, for example, Mark 9.17–27 and parallel in Luke 9.37–42; of course, foaming at the mouth could also indicate prophetic fury and a more positive sense of madness [see Lucian, “Alexander the False Prophet,” in Lucian, IV, trans. A.  M. Harmon (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1925), 12, for the protagonist’s techniques to induce this to fool observers], but it seems unlikely that this is what is meant here. 67. For example in his Life of Constantine, discussed briefly above.

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appearances of the martyrs he discusses would be disinterested or included as mere detail. Rather, Eusebius comments on their appealing appearances to lend greater emphasis on the nobility of their respective characters.68 In his longer recension of the work, Eusebius takes the time to itemize a host of flattering physical details about many of the martyrs he writes of: young men “perfect in stature and brave in person” turned themselves in as Christians,69 Domninus was “tall of stature and handsome” and followed by three young men “of fine stature” who meet with the same judge,70 and Seleucus “surpassed most men in stature by the size of his person and his prowess. His appearance, too, was very handsome.”71 In the shorter recension, Eusebius includes even more praise of Seleucus’s physical appearance: “In stature and bodily strength, and size and vigor, he far excelled his fellow soldiers, so that his appearance was matter of common talk, and his whole form was admired on account of its size and symmetrical proportions.”72 Tallness was a prized physiognomic trait,73 as was having symmetrical proportions. Ps.Aristotle emphasizes good proportions as one of the first essentials of an upright character,74 and Seutonius’s positive description of Tiberius includes the details that we was big, with a stature above others, and symmetrical.75 The physiognomic drawback of shortness ascribed to one martyr is tempered by Eusebius. He speaks of a figure who was given the name Zacchaeus “as a mark of honor, calling him by the name of that first Zacchaeus—for one reason, because of the smallness of his stature, and for another, on account of the strict life he led.”76 Here a physiognomic detriment is remade into one of Christian virtue. Although Eusebius tends to focus more on the description of male martyrs, one woman is also given a brief physical description that attest to her moral worth. Eusebius notes of Theodosia that “she was charming in beauty and in the appearance of her figure.”77 As noted, beauty was typically associated good moral character and sometimes even with those who

68. What is a bit strange, as I readily admit, is that he does not provide similar descriptions for all of the martyrs he addresses. Perhaps doing so would make the text highly repetitive or call into question the attractiveness of the ones he does physically describe, as it might be suspect if all martyrs were specimens of physical perfection. 69. Mart. Pal., 10. 70. Ibid., 24. 71. Ibid., 43. 72. 11.21. 73.  See the following chapter for Josephus’s boast that Moses was quite tall, even as a child. 74. 814a; cited by Evans, “Physiognomy,” 73; Conway notes of this text that “being wellproportioned is most critical, indicating an upright and brave man” (Colleen M. Conway, Behold the Man: Jesus and Greco-Roman Masculinity [Oxford; New York: Oxford University Press, 2008], 19). 75. Tib. 68; Discussed by Evans, “Physiognomics,” 55. 76. Mart. Pal., 5. 77. Ibid., 22.

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were divinely favored. For Eusebius, the virtue of several of the Palestine martyrs was attested physiognomically.

Conclusions Recontextualizing physical details included in these narratives within a physiognomic mindset sheds further light on the portrayal of the martyrs as distinguished persons who one would do well to emulate. By including physiognomics in the narrative, the authors of these works were able to provide physical proof that reinforced the respect and admiration an audience held for the figures. In portraying the physical attributes and bodily comportment of the agonistic experience of torture, the authors are able to underscore the bravery and masculinity of the “winning” martyrs and the emasculation of the persecuting “losers.” Similarly, attention to physiognomic attributes present in the martyrdom of Perpetua provides further evidence of how her gender is ambiguously portrayed.

Chapter 5 “ H E H A D N E I T H E R F O R M N O R B E AU T Y ” :   T H E P H YSIO G N OM IC C U R IO SI T Y O F T H E N E G AT I V E D E S C R I P T IO N S O F T H E P H YSIC A L A P P E A R A N C E O F J E SU S

Previously this work has examined how a perceived negative physical appearance or bodily comportment could be used as a means of rhetoric to castigate or denigrate an opponent’s character by some early Christian authors. While the inherent subjectivity of the physiognomic enterprise was abundantly evidenced in the previous chapter, the descriptions of the physical appearance of the earthly Jesus make this even more readily apparent. The early Christian authors discussed in this chapter have been shown to have subscribed to a physiognomic consciousness, yet nonetheless readily espoused the view (based primarily on the suffering servant imagery in Isaiah 53) that the physical appearance of the earthly Jesus was unflattering.1 Isa 53.2–3 reads, “He grew up before him like a tender shoot, and like a root out of dry ground. He had no form nor or majesty that we should look at him, he had no form nor comeliness. His form was ignoble, and inferior to that of the children of men; a man of suffering and acquainted with infirmity; and as one from whom others hide their faces he was despised, and we held him of no account.”2 This acceptance or even promotion of a physically unappealing Jesus is decidedly curious, and while Stephen D.  Moore has addressed this unattractive Jesus to some extent, he is one of the very few contemporary scholars to treat this rather strange phenomenon in any depth.3 While Moore posits a rationale behind this acceptance and even promotion of this rhetorical strategy as a means 1. Although sometimes Paul’s assertion (Philippians 2.7) that Jesus emptied himself and took the form of a slave also seems to be at work: see, for example, Clement, Paed. 3.1. 2. For a discussion of how this figure was transformed from a disabled person to one with a physical unattractive appearance, see Jeremy Schipper, Disability and Isaiah’s Suffering Servant (Oxford:  Oxford University Press, 2011). While it is beyond the present scope, an investigation into whether physiognomic thought (unattractive as a lesser evil than disabled in ancient thought) played a role in this process might prove fruitful. 3.  Stephen D. Moore, God’s Beauty Parlor: And Other Queer Spaces in and around the Bible (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2001).

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of highlighting the splendor of the Jesus who will return at the second advent, given the importance placed on “looking the part” in the ancient world and that these authors who accept this unflattering image subscribed to a more prevalent physiognomic consciousness, more can and should be said on the subject. While, of course, one of the additional rhetorical reasons for promotion of this “ugly Jesus” is that in citing the references in Isaiah this provided early Christian authors with “proof ” that Jesus and his rather humble and inglorious end was prophesied in scripture and thus lent their belief additional persuasive force, this does not ultimately account for this in its entirety:  Ps 45:2 (which these same Christian authors utilize elsewhere, indeed, frequently for the “second” anticipated Jesus) could have served the same prophesied function.4 Indeed, some early Christian authors are able to have their cake and eat it too: on the one hand utilizing this tradition to serve as proof but on the other modifying or qualifying it in a way that is more in keeping with ancient physiognomic conceptions. To cite a few examples, Gregory of Nazianzus qualifies the Isaiah passage, making it one of perspective: “he had no form or comeliness in the eyes of the Jews—but to David he is fairer than the children of mankind.”5 Here Gregory is also citing Ps 45:2 (LXX 44.3; “fairest of men”), which is also frequently cited by authors to refer to the post-Easter Jesus. For Gregory, it is not that Jesus was uncomely in actual fact, just that he was perceived as such by his hostile enemies. Jerome also pairs these two together in his commentary on the Isaiah passage, puzzling over how these two can be logically reconciled (and no doubt also attempting to mitigate the perception of an unflattering Jesus): “[Jesus] was despised and base when he hung on the cross and made a curse for us . . . But he was glorious [inclutus] and fair in appearance when, at his passion the earth trembled, rocks were split.”6 Elsewhere, Jerome maintains that Jesus was physically impressive, which attested to his divinity throughout his life with the exception of the crucifixion: “Surely, the very splendor and majesty of his hidden divinity, which was even shining forth in his human face, was capable from the first glance of drawing those who looked towards it.”7 In other words, there were potential ways of mitigating the uncomeliness attested in Isaiah text while still capitalizing on its predictive qualities, as these later authors did. Yet what is even more curious is the authors addressed in this chapter appear to take this unattractive appearance of Jesus as a referent to how he looked throughout his earthly life—not just how he appeared in death. This is distinctly at odds with other authors in antiquity. Rough contemporaries of the Christian authors examined here do demonstrate an interest in trying to distance their

4. “You are the fairest of the sons of men; grace is poured upon your lips; therefore God has blessed you forever.” 5. Orat. 29.19; my emphasis (NPNF2 7:309). 6.  Jerome, Commentariorum in Matthaeum libri IV, in Saint Jerome:  Commentary on Matthew, trans. Thomas P. Scheck (FOTC 117; Washington, DC: Catholic University Press of America, 2008). 7. Comm. Matt. 1.9.9.

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own respective divinely linked authority figure from perceived physiognomic shortcomings, as it is clear from Philo and Josephus’s reworking of the traditions regarding Moses’s physical aspects. Thus, many of these early Christian authors are rather unique in presenting their own divine authority figure in unflattering physical terms and doing so even though there is some evidence that they were being mocked for the humble physiognomy of their savior (and that they in turn mocked adherents of the traditional Greco-Roman cults for the occasional unflattering physical presentation of these deities). As such, it is probable that some of these Christian authors envisioned (whether they succeeded or not is beyond the present scope) some additional rhetorical incentive or perceived payoff in making or responding to these claims about the physicality of Jesus, and each author seems to have a distinct additional aim in doing so, in addition to the reason posited by Moore.8

8.  The following will not address in too much depth instances of Jesus’s polymorphy or metamorphoses in relation to his earthly life primarily because many of the texts that include instances of these seem to be speaking of the post-Easter Jesus who has “triumphed” over the physical flesh, whereas the authors addressed here do, for the most part, seem to be discussing the earthly Jesus during the time of his ministry, which in turns allows for physiognomic interpretation (although they contrast this with his postEaster return). However, it is perhaps worth noting that nearly all instances of Jesus in another form are portrayed in a positive, attractive fashion, whereas I can only find two negative examples, and even these seem to be tied to the idea that Jesus’s post-Easter body defied all fleshy expectations, bearing simultaneously contrasting aspects. In the Acts Pet., Peter proclaims that Jesus is “huge and very little, beautiful and ugly, child and old man” (20). The Acts John relates John saw a variety of forms of Jesus: “sometimes he appeared to me as a small man and unattractive, and then again as one reaching to heaven . . . when I sat at table he would take me upon his breast and I held him; and sometimes his breast felt to me to be smooth and tender, and then sometimes hard, like stone” (3). As Verity Platt observes regarding the different manifestations of Dionysus in the Hymm to Dionysus, “like Demeter and Aphrodite, the beauty of his anthropomorphic disguise hints at his divine status” (Facing the Gods:  Epiphany and Representation in GraecoRoman Art, Literature and Religion [Cambridge; New York: Cambridge University Press, 2011], 67). Istvan Czachez is undoubtedly correct in suggesting that the idea of no fixed appearance and being able to appear in various forms in the polymorphic accounts of Jesus is drawn from accounts of the traditional Greco-Roman gods that are likewise able to do so, and I suggest that this is a means of attesting to his divine status. For a discussion on the polymorphy and metamorphoses of Jesus, see his chapters bearing these names in The Grotesque Body in Early Christian Discourse: Hell, Scatology, and Metamorphosis (Sheffield; Bristol: Equinox, 2012). The following will also not address in too much depth more predictable depictions of an attractive Jesus given that these seem to be what one would expect, although some of these are noted below for authors elsewhere addressed in this work.

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The Physiognomy of the Divine (and Those Who Were Perceived to Be in Close Proximity to It) in the Ancient Mediterranean While there were, of course, exceptions to the “rule” that proximity to the divine (or divinity itself) and beauty or attractiveness were physiognomically linked, the idea that the one indicated and supported the other was the more prominent understanding in the ancient world. As Dale Martin observes, in antiquity the perceived perfect body was understood as occupying the elite end of a spectrum that “stretch[ed] from inhuman or barbaric ugliness to divine beauty. The gods, of course, were beautiful; and people of aristocratic birth or upper-class origins were expected to manifest their proximity to the divine by possessing a natural beauty and nobility.”9 He further notes that this “cultural common sense” is also manifest in the ancient Greek novels where heroines are mistaken for deities, and the converse assumption (though not as frequently attested) is also made, where persons of lower status are expected to be deformed or ugly.10 Moore likewise addresses these points by Martin, citing a variety of instances where these assumptions are also at work.11 He observes that many of the males in the Hebrew Bible are also described as physically beautiful, remarking that “it is implied that ordinarily one would expect a high-ranking ‘servant of Yahweh’ to be beautiful in form and face.”12 Similarly, Cartlidge and Elliott note, “With the exception of a few divine characters, e.g.: Socrates, a divine man (theios aner) was expected to be beautiful; they were usually portrayed as such.”13 Given that the most common expectation was that the gods and those associated with or favored by them would reflect this physiognomically, it becomes evident how any perceived shortcomings of this idea could be used as rhetorical invective to undermine the claims of divinity. Such strategies of physiognomic persuasion are evident not only in pagan invective against early Christians and Judeans but also in early Christian invective against their pagan contemporaries. Perhaps the most infamous of the former is found in Origen’s Contra Celsum. Origen relays Celsus’s critique, which itself evidences physiognomic consciousness:14 9.  Dale B. Martin, The Corinthian Body (New Haven, Conn.:  Yale University Press, 1995), 34. 10. Martin, The Corinthian Body, 34–35. 11. Moore, God’s Beauty Parlor, 252, n. 98. 12. David J. A. Clines “David the Man: The Construction of Masculinity in the Hebrew Bible,” in Interested Parties:  The Ideology of Writers and Readers of the Hebrew Bible (JSOTSup 348. Sheffield:  Sheffield Academic Press, 2004), 212–43; cited by Moore, God’s Beauty Parlor. 13.  David R. Cartlidge and J. Keith Elliott, Art and the Christian Apocrypha (London; New York:  Routledge, 2001), 53. Similarly, one might compare early Christian depictions of angels and demons—the former being described as beautiful or attractive, and the latter consistently being described as ugly or unattractive. 14.  Although, of course, there are considerations at work for Celsus, but these are beyond the scope of the current chapter.

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Since a divine Spirit inhabited the body [of Jesus], it must certainly have been different from that of other beings, in respect of grandeur, or beauty, or strength, or voice, or impressiveness, or persuasiveness. For it is impossible that He, to whom was imparted some divine quality beyond other beings, should not differ from others; whereas this person did not differ in any respect from another, but was, as they report, little, and ill-favoured, and ignoble (μικρὸν καὶ δυσειδὲς καὶ ἀγεννὲς ἦν).15

It is not clear if Celsus is misquoting or misremembering Isa 52:3 as another instance of attempting to use their own scripture against early Christians (for the Greek terms used in these respective texts are quite different, although they have similar implications), or if this is a criticism independent of this (which seems plausible in the context of physiognomic polemic). In any case, as Parsons observes, in the physiognomic manuals there is a link between smallness of body and smallness of spirit, and that being of short stature frequently made one the butt of polemical humor.16 And while the more specific implication of smallness of mind or spirit may or may not be at work here, given that shortness tended to be a source of ridicule and is not on the list of the qualities that Celsus considers to belong to the divine, the implication as a whole remains clear: Jesus could not have been divinely favored or divine himself as his physique attested to his humble mortal status. Less frequently noted is the similar attack on Jesus’s character and physical appearance that Origen reports Judeans leveled against early Christians:  “they [Judeans] misrepresent him as a vagabond, and they accuse him of being an outcast who roamed about with his body disgracefully unkempt.”17 Although unfortunately this is not more specific regarding what this might entail, it is clear that it is meant in a derogative fashion, and perhaps some inferences can be drawn despite the absence of specific detail. The image of the Cynic would seem to fit this assertion fairly well—both the unkempt appearance as well as being portrayed as an itinerant outcast. Lucian offers some indications regarding how their physical appearance was evaluated by observers: “I saw the Stoics going about with dignity, decently dressed and groomed, ever with a thoughtful air and a manly countenance, as far from effeminacy as from the utter repulsive negligence of the Cynics.”18 Elsewhere, he describes an altercation with a Cynic, where the protagonist states, “You wear a beard and let your hair grow; you eschew shirts;

15. Cels. 6.75, trans. Henry Chadwick, Origen: Contra Celsum (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1953). 16.  Mikeal Carl Parsons, Body and Character in Luke and Acts:  The Subversion of Physiognomy in Early Christianity (Grand Rapids, Mich.:  Baker Academic, 2006), 99–101; on dwarfism in an ancient context, see Body and Character, 102–104. 17.  διαβάλλοντες πλάνην κατηγοροῦσιν αὐτοῦ ὡς ἀλωμένου καὶ ἀλύοντος ἐν ἀγεννεῖ σώματι, Cels. 2.38. 18. Hermotimus, 18.

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you exhibit your skin; your feet are bare; you choose a wandering, outcast, beastly life; unlike other people, you make your own body the object of your severities; you go from place to place sleeping on the hard ground where chance finds you, with the result that your old cloak, neither light nor soft nor gay to begin with, has a plentiful load of filth to carry about with it.”19 Although these descriptions may not have directly aligned with the perceptions of the Judean detractors Origen relates, it is sufficient to note that Jesus’s physique is judged to be lacking (in the very least in not attempting to cultivate it to acceptable norms). This entailed a negative evaluation of his character, and in turn impugned early Christian claims to his divinity. Jesus, on this and the previous account, does not “look the part” that was understood to be a prerequisite of the divine or those who were divinely favored. Early Christians evidently recognized the rhetorical value of such attacks and in a similar manner criticized the representations and physicalities of some of the traditional Greco-Roman gods. In his critique of the character of these figures, Clement of Alexandria also lobs in a few digs at their respective portrayed physicalities, citing the Iliad to refer to the Prayers as those “lame and wrinkled cross-eyed deities,”20 before elaborating that they are “the daughters of Zeus, though they are more like the daughters of Thersites.”21 Elsewhere, he capitalizes on Homer’s description of Hephaestus as being “lame in both feet.”22 Clement also takes physiognomic aim at the priests of the traditional temples: “Let any of you look at those who minister in idol temples. He will find them ruffians with filthy hair, in squalid and tattered garments, complete strangers to baths, with claws for nails like wild beasts.”23 Minucius Felix asserts, “[D]o not the very forms and appearances of your gods expose them to ridicule and contempt? Vulcan, a lame and crippled god; Apollo, still beardless after all these years; Aesculapius, well-bearded, although he is the son of the ever-youthful Apollo; Neptune, with sea-green eyes; Minerva, cateyed; Juno, ox-eyed.”24 And Origen queries, “[W]hat respect is commanded by the frenzied Dionysus, clad in feminine clothing, so that he should be worshipped as a god?”25 Examples of this rhetoric are admittedly sparse, but that is to be expected 19. Cynic., 1. 20. II. 9.502 (Murray, LCL). 21. Protr. 4 (ANF 2:187–88). Thersites, of course, is one of the more infamous examples of ancient physiognomy, his ugly and deformed body betraying his low-class status while he seeks to portray himself as superior. 22. Protr. 7 (ANF 2:193); Il. 1.607. 23. Protr. 10 (ANF 2:197). 24.  Octavius 23.5 (Glover, LCL). While again these physical descriptions are perhaps not to be intended to have been understood in a historical or literal fashion, I cite them as the principle of attacking the legitimacy of a rival god via his or her physical appearance is readily apparent. While “ox-eyes” was an epithet of Hera in Homer, see R. Drew Griffith (“The Eyes of Clodia Metelli,” Latomus 55 [1996]: 181–83) for the suggestion that the term was used by Cicero to indicate sexual immorality. 25. Cels. 3.22.

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given that, as noted above, the gods were almost universally conceptualized and depicted as physically attractive.

Philo and Josephus on the Physiognomy of Moses David Lincicum has demonstrated that in some of his writings Philo operates with a certain degree of physiognomic consciousness.26 While he notes that Philo did not utilize physiognomy in the strict sense as espoused by the manuals, in instances where it suited his purposes to do so Philo would employ physiognomic commonplaces to support his exegesis. The same can likely be said of Josephus, who also employs physiognomy in some of his characterizations of persons in his works.27 Louis H. Feldman has discussed numerous ways in which both Josephus and Philo recast material found in the Septuagint to make Moses more palatable to a broader Roman audience, including omitting or modifying potentially embarrassing material. While he does address instances of these that would fall under the rubric of physiognomy (such as speech and physical appearance), he does not address this material in these terms. Doing so helps explain the potential motivations for these alterations. For both Philo and Josephus, apologetics are at work in their respective portraits of Moses’s physicality. They seek to improve his physical appearance as a response to accusations of leprosy leveled by detractors as well as address the tradition that he suffered a speech impediment. While, of course, leprosy was not merely a physical defect that marred one’s appearance but also came with a variety of different social and theological stigmas; the role it played in disfiguring one’s body no doubt also played a role in how these persons were perceived. Scholars have debated what, exactly, constituted leprosy in the ancient Mediterranean, a task that is complicated in part because “leprosy in the biblical, medieval, and renaissance eras was not diagnosed with accuracy. The criteria for diagnosis was imprecise . . . Many skin diseases, notably psoriasis, eczema, leukoderma, and other non-infectious dermatoses, were labeled leprosy.”28 The terms that Josephus uses in response to his critics are λέπρα combined with scaly (ψωρός) skin, thus likely indicating that a marred physical appearance was readily apparent.

26.  David Lincicum, “Philo and the Physiognomic Tradition,” Journal for the Study of Judaism 44, no. 1 (2013): 57–86. 27. In her appendix, Elizabeth Evans has listed several instances where she identifies some physiognomy employed in an informal sense in Josephus’s works (“Physiognomy in the Ancient World,” Transactions of the American Philosophical Society 59, no. 5 (1969): 92–93). 28. William B. Ober, “Can the Leper Change His Spots? The Iconography of Leprosy Pt. 1,” American Journal of Dermatopathology (1983): 43–58, 48. See here also for discussion of the various ancient terms that were used to designate what becomes translated as leprosy.

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That detractors were utilizing these traditions regarding Moses’s unflattering physique as a component of polemic is evident from Josephus’s Against Apion, where he attempts to refute Manetho’s claims that Moses was expelled from Egypt because of leprosy.29 As Feldman observes, in Josephus’s elaboration on the beauty of Moses as well as the measure Moses took to exile lepers he is “particularly eager to answer the canard” of Moses’s unflattering appearance.30 Philo, too, sought to rebuff these traditions, addressing the biblical account where Moses’s hand turned leprous and was then restored but modifying the story so that his hand turned the color white instead: “What is striking is that there is no mention of leprosy. In Josephus’s version there is likewise no mention of leprosy; instead we are told that when Moses drew forth his hand it was “white, of a color resembling chalk” (Ant. 2.273).31 Yet even beyond this clear side-stepping of explicit references to leprosy, both Philo and Josephus seek to highlight the physical beauty of Moses in numerous ways throughout their respective works. Lincicum notes several passages where Philo correlates external appearance with internal character, including his depiction of Moses: “from his birth he had an appearance of more than ordinary goodliness.”32 While, of course, often Philo is also relating material found in the Septuagint, as Lincicum notes he often expands on this in physiognomic ways.33 Feldman notes that Moses’s beauty (and that of other important favorable biblical figure) is frequently emphasized by Josephus, observing that “[a]lmost at the very beginning of the portrait, Moses’s beauty plays a key role. In the bible Pharaoh’s daughter saves the baby because it is crying (Exod. 2.6), in Josephus her motive is that she is enchanted by his size (μεγέθους) and beauty (κάλλους)” (Ant. 2.224–25).34 Feldman also points out that Josephus employs these same adjectives in his description of the infant Moses as Plutarch does in describing Romulus and Remus.35 The beauty of the child Moses was so stunning that, according to Josephus, people would stop and stare: [A]nd as for his beauty, there was nobody so impolite as, when they saw Moses, they were not greatly surprised at the beauty of his countenance; it happened frequently, that those that met him as he was carried along the road, were obliged to turn again upon seeing the child; that they left what they were about, and stood still a great while to look at him, for the beauty of the child was so

29. C. Ap. 1.279 (Thackery, LCL). 30.  Louis H. Feldman, Josephus’s Interpretation of the Bible (Berkeley :  University of California Press, 1998), 385. 31.  Louis H. Feldman, “Moses in Midian, According to Philo,” Shofar:  IJJS 21, no. 2 (2003): 1–20, 14–15. 32. Mos. 1.9; cited by Lincicum, “Philo,” 19. 33. Lincicum, “Philo,” 20. 34. Feldman, Interpretation, 384. 35. Ibid, 384–85, citing Ant. 2.232 and Plutarch’s Ant. Rom. 1.79.10.

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remarkable and natural to him on many accounts that it detained the spectators, and made them stay longer to look upon him.36

As Gohei Hata suggests, “Josephus’ emphasis on Moses’ beauty negates his image as a cripple or ungainly leper.”37 The tradition in the Septuagint of Moses’s speech impediment is also negotiated in Philo and Josephus’s portrait of Moses. As discussed in Chapter  2, the male voice was of great physiognomic importance, and any perceived lack in this regard was considered a failure in masculinity and by extension the ability for leadership. It is thus clear why Philo and Josephus are eager to mitigate this physiognomic problem.38 Whereas Josephus takes a more direct approach and omits the biblical references (Exod 4:10, 6:12) to Moses as being slow of speech and ineloquent,39 Philo addresses this tradition but only to qualify it in a way that speaks favorably of Moses’s character. The first rationale he provides is that Moses was tongue-tied out of sheer shock of conversing with God, and the second that in comparison with the divine eloquence human speech was the equivalent to dumbness.40 In his defense of Moses, Philo alters Moses’s ineloquence to “speechless,” and this becomes an aspect of the virtue of reverence for the divine.41 Philo, then, has modified a physiognomic problem to become a physiognomic virtue—piety and reverence for the divine, made manifest in a physical way. Similarly, Feldman notes that in another work Philo returns to this theme of Moses’s speech problems, here rectifying the issue with a similar apologetic way: “Moses is not speechless in the sense that we use it of animals, but rather in the sense that refers to the failure to find a fitting instrument in language corresponding to one’s understanding of true wisdom, which is the opposite of false sophistry.”42 In their respective rehabilitations of the physiognomy of Moses, Philo and Josephus behave in quite predictable ways—altering their accounts to play down

36. Ant. 2.30–31; also cited by Feldman, Interpretation, 384. 37. Gohei Hata, “The Story of Moses Interpreted within the Context of Anti-Semitism,” in Josephus, Judaism and Christianity, ed. Louis H. Feldman and Gohei Hata (Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 1987), 180–97, 184. 38.  Similarly, Feldman notes that “the great leader of a nation should not be eloquent would certainly, to a Greek or Roman, seem to be a defect so great as to invalidate the claim of someone to be the nation’s leader” (Feldman, “Moses in Midian,” 15–16). 39.  Feldman, “Moses in Midian,” 16. Feldman also notes that rather than Aaron accompanying Moses as a spokesperson to Pharaoh as in the Exodus account (5:1), in Josephus’s version Moses goes alone, thus implying that he spoke on his own (Studies in Josephus’ Rewritten Bible [Leiden: Brill, 1998], 65; Ant. 2.281). Moreover, Josephus makes a point of stating that Moses “found favour in every way in speech and in public addresses” (Rewritten Bible, 65, citing Ant. 4.328). 40. Feldman, “Moses in Midian,” 16; Mos. 1.83. 41. Feldman, “Moses in Midian,” 16. 42. Ibid., 17, citing Philo’s Det. 38.

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(or exempt) negative physical qualities as well as bolstering or highlighting the positive ones. What is curious is that several of their early Christian contemporaries, for the most part, did not behave in this same, predictable way. This is the case even though these authors can be shown to elsewhere work under physiognomic influence, as well evidence a bit of tension in their respective works on the ugliness of Jesus. It is likely, then, that there must have been additional rhetorical goals at work in adhering to—or even the promotion of—the idea of a physically unappealing Jesus.

Early Christian Authors on the Lackluster Physical Appearance of Jesus Stephen D.  Moore observes that the phenomenon of a negative assessment of Jesus’s physicality “first rears its ugly head briefly” in Justin Martyr followed shortly by surfacing in Irenaeus, although Clement of Alexandria was the first to “grasp it firmly by the horns.”43 Of the authors who do utilize the idea of an unattractive Jesus, Origen is the most physiognomically typical of these authors in that he also tries to mitigate the perception of the lackluster form of the earthly Jesus.44 He suggests that Celsus must have gotten this impression from the Isaiah passage (despite the discrepancy in wording, noted above) and in so doing attempts to curtail any exterior or additional support for this understanding of Jesus’s physique. Origen further attempts to qualify Celsus’s assertions by noting that even though scripture does describe Jesus as being “ill-favoured,” he insists that it does not describe him as “ignoble . . . nor is there any certain evidence that he was little” before he cites the Isaiah passage.45 Origen, in ascribing the accusation of Jesus being imperfect to

43.  Moore, God’s Beauty Parlor, 96. In what follows, I  leave aside for the most part artistic or visual representations of Jesus during this period, given that my focus is on verbal rhetoric. This is not to say, however, that visual images do not themselves convey certain ideologies that could be considered their own form of rhetoric, or indeed that interpretation of these images provide a basis for further rhetoric as is made clear in Origen’s and Minicus Felix’s comments on what are presumably sculpted or painted images of the traditional gods. Rather, the above is concerned with the physiognomic curiosity of authors who maintain that Jesus had a deficient physical form in his earthly life, and given that the visual representations of Jesus are predominantly positive in nature, I only refer to them when they are relevant to this discussion. Moreover, although additional references to the perceived “ugly” Jesus are found in other early Christian sources, I keep as my focus authors who have been shown to be operating with a physiognomic consciousness. 44.  That Origen was aware of the practice of physiognomy is discussed by Lincicum, “Philo,” 9. Although Lincicum states that Origen did not warmly embrace physiognomy, he is nonetheless aware of the practice and likely sought to refute the arguments of his detractors on their own terms. 45. Cels. 6.75.

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Celsus’s reading of the Isaiah passage strives to curtail the idea that Jesus was ugly both by citing Ps 4546 and by asserting that for those who were capable of seeing it, Jesus was in fact physically splendid.47 On this latter point, Origen draws on the account of the transfiguration, giving it a metaphorical exegesis: [I]t is not a subject of wonder that the matter, which is by nature susceptible of being altered and changed, and of being transformed into anything which the creator chooses . . . should at one time possess a quality, agreeably to which it is said “He had no form nor beauty,” and at another, one so glorious, and majestic, and marvellous, that the spectators of such surpassing loveliness—three disciples who had ascended [the mount] with Jesus—should fall upon their faces. . . . But there is also something mystical in this doctrine,48 which announces that the varying appearances of Jesus are to be referred to the nature of the divine word, who does not show Himself in the same manner to the multitude as he does to those who are capable of following Him to the high mountain which we have mentioned; for to those who still remain below, and are not yet prepared to ascend, the Word has neither form nor beauty, because to such person His form is without honour, and inferior to the words given forth by men . . . To those, indeed, who have received power to follow him, in order that they may attend Him even when He ascends to the lofty mount, He has a diviner appearance.49

For Origen, while he must concede the unflattering portrayal of Jesus drawn from Isaiah in order to “explain” why Celsus would make such a charge, he nonetheless demonstrates interest in showing that this was not the full extent of Jesus’s physicality. Indeed, in this latter respect, Origen is one of the few early Christian authors discussed here who behaves in a predictable physiognomic

46. He argues that Celsus deliberately rejected this as being applicable to Jesus, choosing the more unappealing description deliberately “because he thought they were of use to him in bringing a charge against Jesus” (Cels. 6.75). He notes that the Gospels and “apostolic writings” do not attest to the idea that Jesus had no form or beauty (thus eliminating an eyewitness account for Celsus’s charges) before reluctantly agreeing that the account of Isaiah must be relied upon, although of course it is not as unfavorable as Celsus’s remarks (Cels. 6.76). 47. Jerome will take a similar approach. 48. Admittedly, what follows here does seem to extend into the realm of polymorphy or metamorphosis which I have purposely decided not to address in any depth in this work. I have kept this discussion on Origen’s understanding of Jesus’s physicality as elsewhere (the passages cited above), he does seem to have his earthly body in mind, and in this context it seems as though he attributes these variously perceived manifestations of Jesus as being an ability of Jesus while he was still working his earthly ministry. 49. Cels. 6.77.

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fashion—although there is sporadic evidence that ultimately other authors are still somewhat uncomfortable with this and occasionally seek to qualify it.50 Including some of Origen’s comments in his assessment, Moore proposes that the function of this acceptance of an inferior Jesus served to heighten the contrast between the earthly Jesus who suffered such an ignoble fate in that body and the one that will return and provide physical evidence of his divinity in majestic splendor. His concluding remarks on the topic of the physique of Jesus are worth citing in full: [E]ven if the second-century apologists declined to idealize the face and physique of Jesus of Nazareth, it is probably safe to surmise that the fourth gospel supplied the safety net for their tightrope assertion that he was physically ill favoured—the Fourth Gospel especially as read through the lens conveniently provided by the hymn to the kenotic Christ preserved in Philippians 2.3–11. For if the pre-existent Son of God elected to empty himself, to become flesh and dwell among us, why should he not have gone all the way and taken on flesh that was inglorious rather than glorious, becoming as ugly, precisely, as sin? The assertion that Jesus was ugly only made theological sense within the framework of a pre-existence Christology, a framework whose central strut was the Fourth Gospel. Before this framework was firmly in place, Christian authors seem not to have known what to do with Isaiah 53.2–3 . . . For although the portrait of the “Suffering Servant” of Isaiah 53.1–12 pops up repeatedly in the literature that now makes up the New Testament . . . the physical ugliness of that is so prominent in the original has been discreetly painted out of the picture. But by the end of the second century . . . Isaiah 53.2–3 was being whipped out fearlessly and repeatedly by the apologist and other Christian authors, confident that the “before” snapshot of Jesus that it represents merely serves to accentuate the “after” snapshots that are readily available now that he has undergone the miraculous makeover of crucifixion combined with resurrection.51 50.  Of course, that the uncomeliness of Jesus was understood in rather vague terms no doubt also contributed to some early Christians acquiescence of it. That is, Jesus’s unattractiveness was attributed to him by written sources and thus did not have the visceral impact that a more specified description or representation in material culture would have had. This likely made the notion slightly more palatable—a blank canvas of unappealing physical traits that they could draw on with slightly more ease given the lack of specific itemized ugly features. 51.  Moore, God’s Beauty Parlor, 127. Moore cites the appearance of Jesus in Rev 1.13– 16 as an example of this physically reformed Jesus after his resurrection. For a discussion on early Christian attitudes regarding the wounds of Jesus after his execution, see Peter Widdicombe, “The Wounds and the Ascended Body:  The Marks of Crucifixion in the Glorified Christ from Justin Martyr to John Calvin,” LTP 59, no. 1 (2003):  137–54. The wounds, despite their stigma, served as a means of identification that the resurrected Jesus was who he claimed to be in John 20.24–29 and Luke 24.39. This identification topos is also at work in the later On the Life of Saint Martin by Sulpitius Severus, where the saint

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For Moore, the attribution of unflattering characteristics of Jesus makes sense—a further degradation of the pre-extant divine choosing to take on a lowly human form—yet also served to underscore the contrast of the majesty of the post-Easter Jesus. Moore is quite correct in both of these observations. However, given the important role that physiognomic thought occupied in this period—and among the authors addressed here in particular—perhaps additional potential rhetorical incentives for the embracing of the “ugly Jesus” can be suggested. Remarkably, few other contemporary scholars have commented on this phenomenon. None, to the best of my knowledge, have addressed this phenomenon in any depth as a collective opinion of some early Christian authors with the exception of Moore, although occasionally it is noted briefly in works on other subjects. Alain Besangon addresses this phenomenon in one brief paragraph (naturally, as this was not the focus of his work). He posits, without providing evidence drawn from the authors themselves, that “[o]ne senses that this controversy is not directly concerned with the physical appearance of Jesus Christ. It entails defending the idea of spiritual beauty capable of showing through an external ugliness, or, conversely, maintaining the compatibility between that beauty and the classical conception of beauty, a beauty further augmented by splendor” before commenting in a footnote that “philosophy had already reflected upon the ugliness of Socrates.”52 While this is certainly true of Clement who does explicitly draw a contrast between a lackluster body that can still possess a beautiful soul, no other Christian authors on this subject seem to clearly articulate this idea that Besangon attributes to them. Given that an appeal to the infamous precedent of the ugliness of Socrates in contrast to the beauty of his soul would have been such a predictable and problem-solving move to make, it renders the early Christian authors’ discussion of Jesus physique as they do all the more curious. Older scholarship on this topic is decidedly uncomfortable with it, evincing its own physiognomic consciousness. For example, Schaff remarks on the exchange on this topic between Celsus and Origen:  “Celsus used this false tradition of the supposed uncomeliness of Jesus as an argument against his divinity, and an objection to the Christian religion.”53 He further suggests that “[a] true and healthy feeling leads rather to the opposite view; for Jesus certainly had not the physiognomy of a sinner, and the heavenly purity and harmony of his soul must in some way have shone, through the veil of his flesh, as it certainly did on the Mount of Transfiguration. Physical deformity is incompatible with the Old

in question is approached by the devil in disguise, dressed in finery with a tranquil countenance, attempting physiognomic deception in claiming to be Jesus. The Spirit was able to reveal the truth to Martin who responded that “I will not believe that Christ has come, unless he appears with that appearance and form in which he suffered, and openly displaying the marks of his wounds upon the cross” (24). 52. Alain Besangon, The Forbidden Image: An Intellectual History of Iconoclasm, trans. J. M. Todd (Chicago, Ill.: University of Chicago Press, 2000), 111, 392 n. 6. 53. History, vol. 2, 227 n. 5.

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Testament idea of the priesthood, how much more with the idea of the Messiah.”54 Moore’s observations, then, provide a much needed corrective approach to this unattractive Jesus, though more can still be said on the topic. Jacob Taubes also addresses the “ugly Jesus,” although in the context of examining Nietzsche’s discussion of the emphasis on humility in early Christianity, particularly in Paul. His brief observations will be incorporated based on the authors he discusses.55 Origen, as noted above, comes the closest to a response that one might anticipate in physiognomic thought. What complicates this, but is also perhaps in part a strategy to refute the hostile assessment of Celsus, are his subsequent assertions of “how did [Celsus] fail to notice that his body differed in accordance with the capacity of those who saw it, and on this account appeared in such form as was beneficial for the needs of each individual’s vision?”56 As discussed above, Origen attempts to mitigate the problem of an unattractive Jesus not only by direct qualification of the terms Celsus ascribes to him but also by arguing that the true nature of Jesus’s physical form could only be correctly perceived by those who were capable of doing so:  “his appearance was not just the same to those who saw him, but varied according to their individual capacity.”57 The implication that it is thus Celsus’s (or those of his informers) own character flaws that prevented

54.  Ibid., 227. For additional references to other (and earlier) scholarly discomfort with this tradition, see Moore, God’s Beauty Parlor, 242 n. 18. For two notable exceptions, see J. Rendel Harris, “On the Stature of Our Lord,” Bulletin of the John Rylands Library 10 (1926), who argues that Jesus, historically speaking, was short of stature, and Robert Eisler. Eisler’s reconstructed account of what was supposedly Josephus’s description of Jesus’s physical appearance is often cited as a notably negative portrayal of Jesus: “a man of simple appearance, mature age, small stature, three cubits high, hunchbacked, with a long face, long nose, and meeting eyebrows, so that they who see him might be affrighted, with scanty hair (but) with a parting in the middle of his head, after the manner of the Nazirites, and with an undeveloped beard. Only in semblance was he superhuman, (for) he gave some astonishing and spectacular exhibitions” (Robert Eisler, The Messiah Jesus and John the Baptist: According to Flavius Josephus’ Recently Rediscovered “Capture of Jerusalem” and Other Jewish and Christian Sources [New  York:  Dial Press,  1931], 466–67); cited by Moore, God’s Beauty Parlor, 97). However, much of this is Eisler’s own creation drawn from early medieval accounts that include otherwise positive traits. I am unsure of what Eisler’s own physiognomic goals were in this undertaking, but they are in any case beyond the scope of the work. 55.  Jacob Taubes, “The Justification of Ugliness in Early Christian Tradition,” in From Cult to Culture:  Fragments toward a Critique of Historical Reason, ed. Charlotte Elisheva Fonrobert and Amir Engel (Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 2010). 56. Cels. 6.77. On this Cartlidge and Elliott quip, “Origen’s reply may contain more than a soupçon of doceticism, even if we grant that his model is the Transfiguration” (Art and the Christian Apocrypha, 53). 57. Cels. 2.64.

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him from recognizing a more beautiful Jesus.58 Origen capitalizes on the alteration of Jesus’s appearance in the account of the transfiguration in order to show that the uncomeliness that he concedes based on the Isaiah passage was not the only physical appearance that Jesus was perceived to have: “Let this, then be our reply to the opinion assumed by Celsus: that he failed to understand the ‘changes’ (to use the word common in ordinary literature) or transfiguration of Jesus, and the fact that he had both immortal and mortal nature.”59 This indicates that for Origen and Celsus (in addition to the other Christian writers discussed below) the uncomely appearance of Jesus pertains to his entire earthly ministry and not just his abused body on the cross. In his response to the Judean accusation that Jesus’s body was disgraceful in its unkemptness, Origen responds that “it is not disgraceful to endure such hardships for the benefit of those in all places who are able to understand him,” thus attempting to lessen the stigma of this physical attribute by saying it was part of the moral role Jesus fulfilled.60 Irenaeus’s acceptance of Isaiah as a literal description of the physique of Jesus is perhaps partially explained in his determination to refute other early Christian claims that Jesus did not have actual flesh and that consequently he only appeared to suffer. Throughout his work, Irenaeus takes issue with those who maintain a nonmaterial form of the Jesus throughout his earthly career. Perhaps, like Tertullian who also faced a similar challenge (see below), part of the reason to allow a physically lackluster Jesus was intended to sharply curtail the understanding that Jesus’s “flesh” was not human, but somehow superhuman, given that such a view would no doubt relate to the divine beauty ascribed to those who were in proximity with (or were themselves) divine. Thus, in permitting the uncomeliness of Jesus to stand, this might potentially help Irenaeus avoid the potential slippery slope that asserting that Jesus had a flattering physique might have encouraged. However, as with all authors thus far examined, this is likely not as simple or as clear-cut as that. Despite citing the Isaiah passage numerous times, in one instance, Irenaeus seemingly attempts to qualify this shortly after and draws on Isa 9:6. He states that Jesus is “the holy Lord, the Wonderful, the Counsellor, the Beautiful in appearance, and the Mighty God.”61 What is noteworthy about this is that Irenaeus appears to have modified Isa 9:6 somewhat, as the Septuagint text does not include “beautiful in appearance.”62 If this is a deliberate interpolation of this text, then this perhaps

58. Similarly, as Taubes notes there are two modes of Jesus’s appearance—those who are lacking the requisite faith and sophistication cannot see beyond the figure of the servant, and Jesus as crucified (“Justification of Ugliness,” 92). 59. Cels. 4.16. 60. Cels. 2.38. 61. Preascr. 3.19.2 (ANF 1:449). 62.  Although it does mention “good health” will be given to this figure. However, Irenaeus also omits the references to peace, so perhaps he is working from memory rather than having the text in front of him, which potentially accounts for this discrepancy.

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provides evidence that Irenaeus, while accepting an ugly Jesus when it suits or bolsters his argument, is nonetheless otherwise physiognomically uncomfortable with the description. Tertullian likewise utilizes this portion of Isaiah as a proof text,63 but he also elaborates on the trope of an ugly Jesus in citing Ps 22:6 (“He pronounces himself ‘a worm, not a man, an ignominy of man, and the refuse of the people’ ”)64 and remarking that “his body did not reach even to human beauty, to say nothing of heavenly glory.”65 Tertullian betrays no hesitation in accepting that the earthly Jesus’s physique was decidedly subpar. He appears to be propounding an ugly Jesus for reasons similar to Irenaeus, also combating those who had asserted that Jesus’s body was not comprised of human flesh. Specifically, his use of Isaiah appears to be applied to those who viewed Jesus’s body as being of the same substance (or nonsubstance?) as angelic or celestial beings66 and, like Irenaeus, aimed at avoiding the slippery slope that admitting to a body that was on the higher end of the “divine” spectrum could potentially provoke.67 However, Tertullian goes beyond this with an additional assertion of Jesus’s unattractiveness that does not have scriptural precedence, with the concomitant rhetorical goal of explaining how Jesus could have been crucified to begin with. Both of these goals are clear in his Carn. Chr.: All these marks of the earthy origin were in Christ, and it is they which obscured Him as the Son of God, for He was looked on as a man, for no other reason whatever than because He existed in the corporeal substance of a man . . . But if there had been in Him any new kind of flesh miraculously obtained (from the stars), it would have certainly been well known. As the case stood, however, it was actually the ordinary condition of His terrene flesh which made all things else about him wonderful, as when they said, “Whence hath this man the wisdom and these mighty works?” (Mt 13.54). Thus spoke even they who despised his outward from. His body did not even reach to human beauty, to say nothing of heavenly glory. Had the prophets given us no information whatever concerning His ignoble appearance, His very sufferings and the very contumely proved its abject condition. Would any man have dared to touch even his little

63. Adv. Jud. 14, also cited by Moore, God’s Beauty Parlor, 96. 64. Adv. Jud. 14 (ANF 3:172). 65. Carn. Chr. 9 (ANF 3:530). 66.  “But Christ, they say, bare (the nature of) an angel” (Carn. Chr. 14 [ANF 3:532]); “For, as I have read in some writer of Valentinus’ wretched faction, they refuse at the outset to believe that a human and earthly substance was created for Christ, lest the Lord should be regarded as inferior to the angels, who are not formed of earthly flesh” (Carn. Chr. 15 [ANF 3:534]); Tertullian’s opponents also maintain that because Jesus did not have an earthly body, he did not physically suffer (Carn. Chr. 5). 67. He cites Isaiah in Carn. Chr. 15.

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finger, the body of Christ, if it had been of an unusual nature; or to smear His face with spitting, if it had not invited it (by its abjectness)?68

This assertion regarding not even reaching to human standards of beauty (my italics) is Tertullian’s own composition, going beyond a citation of scripture. Later in this passage, Tertullian cites Jesus’s rather ignoble bodily actions (such as trembling at the prospect of death, hunger, weeping over Lazarus, and shedding blood at the crucifixion) before sarcastically quipping, “These, I suppose, are celestial marks?”69 Also, he queries, “But how, I ask, could He have incurred contempt and suffering in the way I have described, if there had beamed forth in that flesh of His aught of celestial excellence?”70 For Tertullian, emphasizing a physically unattractive Jesus serves two argumentative purposes. First, it provides him with datum that both supports his conception of Jesus’s earthly and fleshy body to his opponents, and second, it gives an explanation for the seeming contradiction in antiquity of an executed and physically abused divine figure.71 It would seem that to Tertullian’s mind, these potential advantages in his attempts at persuasion outweighed potential negative physiognomic implications for a physically unappealing Jesus. Curiously, however, and perhaps displaying some level of discomfort with his ugly Jesus, Tertullian asserts that despite the apparent contrast between the first advent of Jesus in lowly form and the beauty of the second,72 these two forms are “a pair, on the one hand, and consimilar, because of the identity of the Lord’s general appearance, inasmuch as He is not to come in some other form, seeing that He has to be recognized by those by whom he was once hurt.”73 Clement also has his own rhetorical reasons for promoting the idea of a physically unattractive Jesus. Although he does make references to this in other places where it is utilized to challenge the validity of invariable physiognomy, or, the privileging of physical beauty over moral goodness,74 when these are combined

68. Carn. Chr. 9 (ANF 3:530). Taubes cites this passage as well, referring to it as an “antiGnostic barb” (“The Justification of Ugliness,” 92). 69. Ibid. 70. Ibid. 71.  Similarly, Eric Osborn (Tertullian:  First Theologian of the West [Cambridge; New  York:  Cambridge University Press, 1997], 60–61) observes that for Tertullian “the sufferings of Christ prove that his flesh was not a celestial substance. No one would have dared to lay a finger on his body, let alone spit on it, if it had not borne the signs of physical weakness. His hunger, tears, trembling and spilt blood point to the earthiness of his incarnation.” 72.  “Then [at the second Advent], assuredly, he is to have an honourable appearance [speciem honorabilem] and a grace not ‘deficient of the Sons of men’; for (He will be) ‘blooming in beauty in comparison with the sons of men’ ” (Adv. Jud. 14 [ANF 3:172], citing Ps 22). 73. Adv. Jud. 14. 74. Such as in Strom. 2.5 and Protr. 10.

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with his other sentiments that are a part of rhetorical exhortation regarding the comportment of the body (variable physiognomy), a plausible rationale for his use of an ugly Jesus can be discerned. In his discussion of beauty, Clement instructs his audience on how they should comport themselves: [Women] . . . must accordingly cast off ornaments as girls’ gewgaws, rejecting adornment itself entirely . . . but that man with whom the Word dwells does not alter himself, does not get himself up . . . he does not ornament himself: his is beauty, the true beauty, for it is God . . . And the flesh being a slave, as Paul testifies, how can one with any reason adorn the handmaid like a pimp? For that which is of flesh has the form of a servant. Paul says, speaking of the Lord, Because He emptied Himself, taking the form of a servant . . . And that the Lord Himself was uncomely in aspect, the Sprit testifies by Isaiah . . . Yet who was more admirable than the Lord? But it was not the beauty of the flesh visible to the eye, but the true beauty of both soul and body, which He exhibited, which in the former is beneficence, in the latter—that is, the flesh—immortality.75

For Clement, the ugliness of the earthly Jesus served the function of discouraging the members of his community—notably both men and women—from attempting to produce an “artificial” type of beauty. The persuasive power of Jesus’s lackluster appearance as something to emulate as a proof text for his audiences, combined with his dismissal of invariable physiognomy, allows Clement to capitalize on traditions of an ugly Jesus for his own rhetorical purposes. However, Clement, too, also betrays some discomfort with this, providing a reason as to why Jesus was uncomely in the first place: it was a deliberate choice with a specific didactic function. He asserts that “it was not in vain that the Lord chose to use of a mean form of body; so that no one because of praise for his comely appearance and admiration for his beauty would neglect to attend to his words, and allow their attention for the transitory to keep the spiritual at bay.”76 For Clement, Jesus’s unattractive appearance was not happenstance but a strategic tool to help ensure that his teachings were heard.77 For these early Christian authors, a rhetorical “trade-off ” can be observed: an acquiescence to an unattractive Jesus to help persuade their audience of a given point and one that must have outweighed potential negative physiognomic implications. Combined with Moore’s argument that this acceptance is to serve the function of the contrast between the two advents of Jesus, plausible reasons for the

75.  Paed. 3.1. The context of this passage deals extensively with attempts to externally beautify one’s self, and Clements arguments against this. 76. Strom. 6.17 (ANF 2:516). 77. Similarly, Taubes suggests that for Clement “Christ . . . had to appear inconspicuous and misshapen so as not to distract us, but rather to guide us toward that which is formless (aeides) and disembodied (asomaton)! Christ did not want to appear ιν beautiful form at all, so as not to distract anyone from his preaching” (“The Justification of Ugliness,” 91).

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most part deviating from the physiognomic sensitivity they demonstrate elsewhere can be deduced. There is one additional potential motivation for this deviance, however, and though it is insufficient on its own, perhaps when combined with the motivations discussed above it can be potentially suggested to be at work to some extent in the minds of these authors. However, I would like to stress that this is an extremely tentative suggestion.

Ugly Jesus versus Beautiful Antinous? In the autumn of 130 C.E., Hadrian’s beloved young companion Antinous drowned in the Nile. The question of whether Antinous’s death was accidental or deliberate aimed at benefit for Hadrian himself is still something of a subject of debate, as it was in some circles in antiquity. Dio Cassius’s history gives the fullest account of the incident, written a hundred years after the event in consultation with Hadrian’s (now lost) autobiography: [Antinous] died in Egypt, either by falling into the Nile, as Hadrian writes, or, as the truth is, by being offered in sacrifice. For Hadrian, as I have stated, was always very curious and employed divinations and incantations of all kinds. Accordingly, he honoured Antinous, either because of his love for him or because the youth had voluntarily undertaken to die (it being necessary that a life should be surrendered freely for the accomplishment of the ends Hadrian had in view) by building a city on the spot where he had suffered this fate and naming it after him; and he also set up statues—or rather sacred images of him—over almost all the world.78

Louis Crompton suggests that in all likelihood the death was an accident, but perhaps some prophecy had been made by Egyptian priests, whose religion was of great interest to Hadrian.79 He notes that later legend assimilated the presumed immolation to the Alcestis myth. He cites Aurelius Victor writing in 360 C.E.: “Others maintain that this sacrifice of Antinous was both pious and religious; for when Hadrian was wishing to prolong his life, and the magicians required a voluntary vicarious victim, they say that, upon the refusal of all others, Antinous offered himself.”80 While determining what historically transpired is beyond the current scope,81 for present purposes it is enough to note that the idea of a sacrificial death

78. Ant. Rom. 69.11.2–4 (Cary, LCL); also cited by Louis Crompton, Homosexuality and Civilization (Cambridge, Mass.: Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 2003), 107–8. 79. Crompton, Homosexuality and Civilization, 108. 80. 108. 81.  See Royston Lambert, Beloved and God:  The Story of Hadrian and Antinous (London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1984) for a detailed discussion.

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on behalf of another was associated with Antinous’s death by many in antiquity, including nearly all of the ancient historians who mention the event.82 Almost immediately after his death, Hadrian had Antinous declared a god, built a city in his honor and named after him, and erected monuments and statues of him that showcased his youthful beauty throughout the empire.83 As Crompton observes, portraits of Antinous depict him as an incredibly beautiful youth, noting that “[t]he face is princely, brooding, melancholic, with full features crowned by luxuriantly curling hair . . . His physique combines the athleticism of a Greek ephebe with a hint of oriental voluptuousness.”84 Antinous’s beauty was the pederastic ideal in antiquity. Ferdinand Mount quips that of the early Christian authors who reference Antinous, “[n]one of them denied that he was beautiful. How could they? The sculptures present him as something like the Marlon Brando of On the Waterfront.”85 Although Antinous and his cult show up frequently in Christian writings from the second to fourth centuries, much of the secondary scholarship often only briefly mentions and sometimes not at all.86 Consequently, this is an area that perhaps warrants further discussion. As Lambert assesses, Celsus’s comparison of Jesus87 was (to Origen’s displeasure) quite an apt one: “Jesus and Antinoos were both new deities, human manifestations of ancient gods. Both acquire new names-titles: Jesus Christ and Osirantinoos. After death, both transitioned from the status of human being to god. The feats attributed to Antinoos track closely with the miraculous experiences of Christians.”88 Although Antinous’s beauty was a constant in these works of art, the deity that he was associated with or assimilated to varied fairly widely. However, most frequently he was identified with Osiris, Dionysos, and Hermes, who shared in common powers over the world of the dead. Of these, Osiris and Dionysos (Zagreus) were the most frequent, and both of these deities had died and been resurrected and then faced the underworld again to help restore loved ones.89 82. Ibid., 134. 83. For a discussion of the widespread nature of the Antinous monuments and evidence of his cult, please see the chapter on this subject in Royston Lambert, Beloved and God. 84. Crompton, Homosexuality and Civilization, 107. 85.  Ferdinand Mount, Full Circle:  How the Classical World Came Back to Us (London:  Simon & Schuster, 2010), 227. Mount follows this rather amusing assessment by positing that “[i]nstead, they sometimes sought to distinguish the two saviours by presenting Jesus as positively ugly” (Full Circle, 227). Yet this is all that Mount says on this point (naturally, as this was not the focus of his work), and this idea is addressed more in depth below. 86.  Trevor W. Thompson, “Antinoos, the New God:  Origen on Miracle and Belief in Third-Century Egypt,” in Credible, Incredible: The Miraculous in the Ancient Mediterranean, ed. Tobias Nicklas and Janet Spittler (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013), 141–172, 145. 87. See Cels. 3.36–37 and 5.63. 88. Thompson, “New God,” 164. 89. Lambert, Beloved and God, 139.

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Lambert remarks that “the parallel with Antinous’ own voluntary sacrifice and descent to death to save Hadrian and with his subsequent resurrection is obvious and must have been intended in the persistent assimilation of him to these chthonic deities.”90 As Mount observes, people not only wore Antinous medallions in life for protective purposes, but in death they affixed pictures of him or labels bearing his name onto the coffins of the deceased. As he notes, “because [Antinous] had conquered death, he might help the rest of us to conquer death too.”91 Pausania’s description of Mantineia relates that “there is a building in the gymnasium . . . with statues of Antinoos . . . Many of the paintings are of Antinoos, most in the likeness of Dionysus.”92 In the mid second century, Antinoos received the epithets and attributes of Dionysus and Apollo, and in Adramyttium in Mysia, a coin was produced that was consistent with the depiction of Antinoos as Dionysus.93 Shorrock observes that Dionysus was the god “whose life-story intersected most obviously with the new Christian savior, through both literary and material culture.”94 This was frequently visually manifested. Thomas Mathews notes that “[e]arly Christian art is rich with Dionysiac associations” in depicting a variety of images, and most notably for my purpose, in giving Jesus the facial traits of Dionysus and Apollo: “Christ is given a youthful, beardless face and loose long locks it assimilates him to the company of Apollo and Dionysius.”95 The obelisk that Hadrian erected in his honor describes the deified Antinous as a god of healing, and combined with the assimilation of Antinous to an Asclepius in some works lends credence to “the idea that a young man was thought to have died voluntarily for the health of Hadrian and, as a god, also acted for the health of humanity in general.”96 Moreover, this monument also attests to the idea that Antinous had triumphed over Hades. It is inscribed with the words, “The doorkeepers of the regions of Hades say to him:  Praise to you; they loose their bolts, they open their doors before him in endless many years.”97 Regarding cult function and how the deity was understood, then, the similarities between that of Jesus and Antinous are quite clear. This has been noted by several scholars, who also cite early Christian author’s criticism of Antinous or the Antinous cult as indicative of the explicit comparison drawn between the two figures in antiquity.98 Mount observes that “Christian fathers everywhere in the Empire, in 90. Ibid. 91. Mount, Full Circle, 227. 92. Description of Greece, 8.9.8; also cited by Thompson, “New God,” 153. 93.  Robert Shorrock, The Myth of Paganism: Nonnus, Dionysus and the World of Late Antiquity (London: Bristol Classical Press, 2011), 157. 94. Ibid., 157. 95.  Thomas F. Mathews, The Clash of Gods:  A Reinterpretation of Early Christian Art (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1993), 45, 126–27. 96. Lambert, Beloved and God, 136. 97. Cited by and translation taken from Thompson, “New God,” 151–52 nt. 21. 98. Although assimilation of the two figures could perhaps have also occurred in a less formal way.

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Carthage, Alexandria, Rome, Byzantium, Cyprus, Antioch and Bethlehem, all knew about Antinous, about his breathtaking beauty, about Hadrian’s scandalous passion for him, and his even more scandalous declaring him to be a god. The trouble was that the cult of Antinous bore uncomfortable resemblances to the cult of Jesus.”99 In support of this, he cites Celsus’s assertion related in Origen that the honors paid to Jesus were “no different to from those paid to Hadrian’s boy-favourite.”100 Celsus “introduces a powerful new chthonic deity, Antinoos, as a competitor to Jesus.”101 Similarly, this comparison and rivalry is also potentially present in the attacks on Antinous by other early Christian authors. Lambert remarks that in Christian critiques of the purported sexual licentiousness related to Antinous and his cult there “was a response to some practices in the cult itself, flourishing uncomfortably close to some of the Father, but was also an indignant counter-attack on those who dared seriously to publish comparisons between Antinous, the young, sacrificial and resurrected god from Bithynion, and Christ, the young sacrificial and resurrected god from Nazareth.”102 Indeed, Lambert, followed by Mount, proposes that the beauty of Antinous was in large part what prompted early Christian authors to emphasize the unattractiveness of Jesus: The repeated stress on Antinous’ beauty as a major element of his cult produced a strange reaction on the part of some Christians. So as to emphasise that they did not worship such evanescent externals, they depicted Jesus as almost physically ugly or commonplace by comparison, contending that his true beauty was spiritual and not visible to those purblind enemies who reviled him.103

That something along these lines—an attempt to portray a clear division between Jesus and Antinous—was potentially at work in the minds of the authors I have addressed can find tentative additional support when some of the visual evidence is also added to the discussion. Admittedly what follows rests on the rather shaky premise that the authors in question were familiar with representations of Jesus as a young and beautiful boy. While of course this cannot be proved, there is some indication that images of Jesus and the apostles were fairly widespread and thus

99. Mount, Full Circle, 226. 100.  Ibid.; Origen, Cels. 2.36. Origen responds in typical character critique, asserting that Antinous, being “licentious” and having wondrous works attributed to his cult was the result of sorcery and that he was the polar opposite to Jesus (Cels. 2.36). 101. Thompson, “New God,” 167. 102. Lambert, Beloved and God, 6. Although he notes that “the new cult of Antinous was never in numerical scale, spiritual depth or personal impact a major rival to that of Jesus, its buoyancy in various parts of the world aroused jealousy for a long time to come” (Beloved and God, 193). While large-scale manufacture of statues and other artifacts pertaining to Antinous and his cult seems to have ended with Hadrian, he was still being celebrated in games in his honor until the third and fourth centuries (Beloved and God, 193–94). 103. Lambert, Beloved and God, 194.

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potentially viewed by these authors. Irenaeus states that some of the Carpocrates possess and crown images of Jesus,104 and Eusebius attests that images of what were either of Jesus and the Apostles or at least thought to be found in paintings.105 That there were images and other material culture of Antinous in the respective geographical locations these authors were writing in perhaps adds a bit of feasibility. There was a shrine to him in Egypt (Origen),106 and images have been found in Carthage (Tertullian) and Rome (Origen in later years; visited by Irenaeus).107 The earliest artistic representations of Jesus are not entirely dissimilar from those of Antinous, although by no means would they be considered twins, either. Broadly speaking, both figures are portrayed as handsome youths. As Cartlidge and Elliott note, the portrayal of Jesus as a handsome youth was the preferred representation in the early church: [T]he portrayal of Jesus as a youth is so overwhelmingly the image of choice in the early church . . . It is not surprising that the early Christians would choose to depict their saviour-god in the aesthetic vocabularies available to them, vocabularies already rife with images of a saviour of youthful vigor. It was not only the Hebraic tradition (Psalms 23) which carried this image. So did virtually every Greco-Roman religion. Behind both the Good Shepherd and Jesus the youth lay tens of centuries of savior gods as the Criphorus and as a comely young man.108

The visual assimilation of Jesus to other deities has been frequently discussed, but here it is worthwhile to observe that Jesus’s representations take on different forms to emulate specific deities much like those of Antinous: “it has been widely publicized in works on iconography how these Jesus-as-youth images are virtually the same as certain images of Dionysos, Apollo and other popular pagan saviour figures.”109 Dionysos and Apollo, as noted above, were also frequent avatars of Antinous. Similarly, as Lambert notes, “[Jesus] was himself frequently depicted in his earliest images as Osiris, Dionysos and Hermes.”110 That a statue of a given deity could be misunderstood as representing another, and Jesus in particular, finds support in Eusebius who follows (at least some) popular opinion in mistaking a statue of Asclepius for that of Jesus.111

104. Praescr. 1.25.6 (ANF1:351). 105. Hist. eccl. 6.18. 106. Thompson, “New God,” 145. 107. Ibid., 158 nt. 53. 108. Cartlidge and Elliott, Art and the Christian Apocrypha, 60. 109. Ibid., 57. 110. Lambert, Beloved and God, 139. 111.  Hist. eccl. 7.18.2. The statue also depicted a woman in supplicating form, which perhaps lent rationale to this identification, as observers connected her with the woman with the issue of blood (Hist. eccl. 7.18.1).

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In visual terms, the figure of Jesus and the figure of Antinous were not as dissimilar as some early Christian fathers would have liked. Given that there were comparisons being drawn between the two cults, it is perhaps plausible that these authors sought to further distance these figures from each other in a physiognomic way, given that other traditions about Jesus—articulated by a visual medium— lent themselves too well to this assimilation of the two heads of these respective cults. Given that Antinous’s beauty was not deemed innocuous by early Christian authors—indeed, it was what proved his unsavory character and in turn prompted the vice of lust in Hadrian—attempting to distance Jesus from what was a pederastic ideal would not be surprising. However, I do not think this idea, on its own, fully explains the promotion of an ugly Jesus in view of the persuasive (and polemical) effects of ancient physiognomy. Moreover, Antinous made for a relatively easy target for a host of other important rhetorical counter-charges, and this is no doubt one of the reasons why early Christians were eager to attack him. As Lambert notes, “they lambasted this most recent spurious man-made divinity and the cheap deceptions of his cult, as a means of attacking the credentials of the whole pagan pantheon. It was they who, obliquely at first and then frontally in a shrill and outraged chorus, raised that other, and for them, ugly and sinful issue: sex. This so-call god Antinous, they asserted, had been nothing more than the depraved and willing object of Hadrian’s perverted passion and this consecration of a lust demonstrated the ultimate profanity and worthlessness of the old religion.”112 Similarly, R.  P. C.  Hanson summarizes Athanasius’s position that “the case of Antinous was the worst example of the bad pagan practice of men worshipping their rulers.”113 He notes that “[i]t may be that Christian authors choose the case of Antinous not only because he was a notorious example in the eyes of the pagans but because nobody after Hadrian’s death, apart from local people who had a vested interest in the cult, would be particularly inclined to defend Antinous.”114 Although there is some evidence that there was some amount of derision for the deification of Antinous by pagan contemporaries, as Lambert notes what was more the case was that the populace was “bewildered by its official origins and by the scale, extent and enthusiasm of the cult which followed it and which exceeded that for most divinised Emperors themselves.”115

Conclusions Some detractors of early Christianity capitalized on the perceived unattractiveness of Jesus to undermine Christian claims of his divinity, a physiognomically inspired

112. Lambert, Beloved and God, 6. 113.  R. P.  C. Hanson, “Christian Attitude to Pagan Religions up to the Time of Constantine the Great,” Aufstieg und Niedergangder Romischen Welt II 23, no. 2 (1980), 910–73, 953. 114. Hanson, “Christian Attitude,” 953. 115. Lambert, Beloved and God, 146.

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trope of rhetoric that early Christians themselves also levied against contemporary pagans and their deities. Curiously, some early Christian authors not only subscribed to the idea of an unattractive Jesus but even seemed to promote it, despite evincing some reservations. They employed the concept of an ugly Jesus—a divine figure who did not “look the part”—in rhetorical situations where they sought some broader persuasive goal, using this idea to further their own rhetorical aims. In addition to the aims specific to each author discussed above, the need to distinguish and demarcate as much as possible their divine figure from that of the rival cult of Antinous also likely influenced the discourse on the unattractiveness of Jesus. Although Jesus’s ugliness meant that he did not “look the part” of a divine figure was used against early Christians, some of these authors were nonetheless able to use this to their own rhetorical advantage.

C O N C LU S I O N S

This work set out to explore the role that physiognomic thought played in early Christian discourses of persuasion, which had not previously received the scholarly attention that it warrants. It sought to explicate how physiognomic rhetoric informed and shaped discourses of identity, and how this was similar or, on very rare occasions, dissimilar to contemporaneous pagan usage. The results of this study have shown that the physiognomic enterprise was alive and well in early Christian discourse, utilized in a variety of ways depending on what the rhetorical situation warranted. Much like their pagan contemporaries, physiognomic tropes were used in encomium and invective, as male selffashioning and constructions of collective identities, and appear in a variety of genres. These authors employed evaluations of static, permanent aspects of physical appearance as well as the variable method of physiognomy, which evaluated bodily comportment and was often performative. This work has also shown that Christian physiognomic thought predominantly adhered to broader physiognomic perspective and evaluations, and that many early Christians used these to try to undermine the validity of their opponent’s arguments and opinions: either in “real life” regarding heretics and pagan detractors or in the narrative realm against opponents who were literary figures described by the narrator. Frequently leveled against opponents was the implicit charge of effeminacy, an extremely popular physiognomic trope in antiquity. Effeminacy indicated that the male in question was lacking in body and character, especially the latter given the wide range of moral vices associated with effeminacy (and indeed women themselves) in antiquity. This accusation served to undermine the subject’s credibility and destabilize his place on the culturally construed gender hierarchy, where elite males occupied positions of power. As inflammatory as some of these descriptions seem to modern readers— although the extent to which they accurately reflect the reality of a given physical appearance is ultimately unknowable—this work has shown that these were more than mere ad hominem attacks. Rather, denigrating an opponent in physiognomic terms was considered a persuasive form of argumentation and one of the most reliable means of undermining his position and character. This is because the body was conceived of as a system of signs that, once decoded, revealed the person’s true nature, much more than words ever could, despite the high level of subjectivity

158

Reading Bodies

inherent in the enterprise. For physiognomically minded early Christian authors, regardless of what arguments their opponents might make, ultimately their bodies spoke louder (and were more persuasive) than mere words and, unlike speech, did not lie. Christians, like their Greco-Roman counterparts, also capitalized on this form of rhetoric, which carried with it the additional benefit that it attested to their own intellectual superiority. In utilizing physiognomic thought to persuade onlookers of their purported moral authority, early Christian authors offered the bodies and bodily comportment of members of their community to visually attest to their superior characters. As this work has noted, physiognomic discourse was frequently one articulated by males, regarding males, and for other males, particularly elite males. This is predominantly because they were in competition with rivals in the public and predominately masculine world of Greco-Roman politics and culture. However, here we also saw physiognomic discourse aimed at women, yet it was most often as an extension of the male group they represented. For these male early Christian writers, these were “their” women, who were held to be (or encouraged to be) exemplary and embodied models of the values and honor of their male counterparts. And, in turn, to be held as superior specimens of idealized womanhood, as constructed by elite males, to be contrasted with female pagan contemporaries (however polemically contrived) regarding the ideals of chastity and docility. In other words, this discourse still served the interest of male competition, albeit as pertaining to how they controlled and kept in check “their” women. This work also addressed the physiognomic elephant in the room:  the promotion of an “ugly” Jesus by some early Christian authors, despite evidence that this was being used against their claims to his divine status. At first glance, this seemed strange not only in view of the ancient association of the divine with beauty but also in that their Judean contemporaries dealt with similar traditions in the much more anticipated apologetic way. Moreover, the same Christians who proclaimed the unattractiveness of Jesus participated in more typical physiognomic perspectives that I addressed elsewhere in the work. This work suggests a potential resolution to this curiosity, namely that there were larger rhetorical goals at work for these respective authors: to “prove” the corporality of Jesus’ flesh during his ministry, to help explain why he was able to be crucified in the first place, to deter potential vanity among an author’s community, and, perhaps (albeit just perhaps), to distance Jesus from the notoriously beautiful Antinous. The aim of this was to demonstrate that Christians, very much like their contemporaries, engaged in the physiognomic enterprise. While the examples of physiognomic thought that were addressed here were selective, predicated on the more noteworthy examples, this work has shown that physiognomy played an important role in many forms of early Christian discourse. The result, hopefully, is that other avenues of exploration regarding the role of physiognomy among early Christian thinkers have been opened up.

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AUTHOR INDEX Adams, J. N. 124n. 46 Adkin, Neil 88n. 39, 96n. 74, 98n. 89, 100n. 102, 108nn. 144, 145 Asmus, R. 25, 74

Evans, Elizabeth 8, 11, 15, 16, 17n. 63, 25, 27, 61, 74n. 177, 77n. 196, 96nn. 73, 76, 98n. 87, 100n. 98, 106n. 129, 118n. 9, 128nn. 74, 75, 137n. 27

Barnes, Timothy D. 58 Bartman, Elizabeth 82n. 15 Barton, Tamsyn S. 3n. 1, 8n. 16, 11, 13n. 41, 19, 21–3, 69, 71 Batten, Alicia 82n. 15 Besangon, Alain 143 Bowerstock, Glen Warren 73–4 Boys-Stones, G. 15, 27n. 107 Bradley, Mark 40, 41, 62–3 Brakke, David 53–4, 105n. 123 Bremmer, Jan N. 50, 54, 75, 112, 120n. 21 Brenton, Lancelot C. L. 17n. 65 Brown, Peter 24, 74n. 177, 79n. 1

Feldman, Louis H. 137, 138, 139 Foerster, Richard 24 Fox, Robert Lane 119 Frank, Georgia 34–5 Fredal, James 31n. 129

Callon, Callie 25n. 100, 47n. 27, 55n. 75 Cameron, Averil 44, 79n. 1 Cartlidge, David R. and J. Keith Elliott 134, 144n. 56, 153 Clark, Elizabeth A. 67–70 Cobb, L. Stephanie 115, 116, 117, 118, 121–3, 124, 125, 126, 127nn. 60, 61, and 63, 127 Cokayne, Karen. 58 Conway, Colleen M. 24n. 95, 128n. 74 Cooper, Kate 101, 102n. 107 Corbeill, Anthony 32, 50, 52n. 62, 75n. 188, 106 Corner, Sean 70–1 Crompton, Louis 149–50 Czachez, Istvan 133n. 8 Dagron, Gilbert 22n. 90 Damon, Cynthia 70n. 159 Daniel-Hughes, Carly 82n. 15, 111 den Dulk, Matthiji, and Andrew Langford 26– 27n. 105, 115–16, 119, 125 Denzey, Nicola 119 De Temmerman, Koen 13, 16, 111n. 167, 112n. 168 and n. 169 Edwards, Catherine 59, 118–19 Eisler, Robert 144n. 54 Elliott, J. Keith 134, 144n. 56, 153

Georgiadou, Aristoula 29 Gilhus, Ingvild Saelid 77n. 184 Glancy, Jennifer 3, 17n. 64, 24n. 95, 33, 48n. 36, 53n. 64 Gleason, Maud W. 3, 5, 7, 10n. 26, 11n. 27, 14nn. 48, 49 and 50, 22–3, 25, 28, 31, 32, 45, 46, 49, 50, 51, 79, 83, 84n. 18, 85, 87n. 34 Gold, Barbara K. 115n. 1, 116n. 3, 121n. 28, 123 Graf, Fritz 49 Griffith, R. Drew 136n. 24 Gruca-Macaulay, Alexandra 26 Hagendahl, Harald 63, 70 Halliwell, Stephen 93, 94, 100 Hanson, R. P. C. 154 Harman, A.M. 29n. 120 Harr, Stephen 47, 48 Harrill, J. Albert 10, 25, 27, 29n. 119, 46, 48, 51, 124 Harris, J. Rendel 144n. 54 Hartsock, Chad 8n. 16, 9, 13, 15, 22n. 90, 26, 29, 30, 72, 73n. 174, 98 Hata, Gohei 139 Isaac, B. 12n. 36 Jones, Christopher P. 36n. 147 Kahlos, Maijastina 79n. 1 Kelly, J. N. D. 60n. 108, 61n. 111 King, Karen L. 42, 43, 44 Kitzler, P. 115n. 1 Konig, Jason 61n. 112, 63 Koortbojian, Michael 21

170

Author Index

Lambert, Royston 149n. 81, 150, 151, 152, 153, 154 Langlands, R. 112 Leyerle, Blake 89, 90, 93 Lincicum, David 15, 18, 19, 20, 22–3, 28n. 110, 137, 138, 140n. 44 L’Orange, H. P. 119, 120 Luttikhuizen, Gerard 47, 48 Mackey, James P. 61n. 115 Marinides, Nicholas 18, 19n. 72, 22–3, 25, 27 Marshall, John W. 53 Martin, Dale B. 24n. 95, 134, 142–3 Mathews, Thomas F. 151 Miller, Patricia Cox 34 Miller, Stephen G. 62 Montserrat, Dominic 17, 48 Moore, Stephen D. 27, 131, 133, 134, 140, 142– 3, 144, 146n. 63, 148 Moss, Candida 116n. 3 Mount, Ferdinand 150, 151, 152 Musurillo, Herbert 122n. 35, 123, 124n. 47 O’Sullivan, Timothy 31, 32, 50, 106, 107, 108, 109 Ober, William B. 137n. 28 Odahl, Charles M. 58 Olson, Kelly 69 Osborn, Eric 147n. 71 Pagels, Elaine 24n. 95 Parsons, Mikeal Carl 13, 25n. 98, 26, 28n. 109, 72n. 169, 135 Perkins, Judith 116 Petersen, Anders Klostergaard 118–19, 121 Platt, Verity 133n. 8 Poliakoff, Michael B. 64n. 129 Pomeroy, Sarah B. 69n. 151 Popovic, Mladen 4, 5, 8, 9, 13, 15, 17–18, 19 Potter, David S. 60 Puertas, Alberto J. Quiroga 80n. 4

Rameli, Ilara, and David Konstan 22–3 Roberts-Donaldson 123n. 41 Rohrbacher, David 20 Sandnes, Karl Olav 22, 25n. 101, 26n. 105, 115–16 Sassi, Maria Michela 6, 12, 20, 21, 23, 27, 39 Saunders, Catherine 70 Schaff, Philip 143 Schipper, Jeremy 131n. 2 Shanzer, Danuta 117–18 Shapiro, Julia P. 75n. 184 Shaw, Brent D. 122–3 Shaw, Teresa M. 18, 25n. 99, 30, 34, 35, 44–5, 80n. 4, 86, 89, 103, 105n. 123, 107, 111 Shorrock, Robert 151 Shumka, Leslie 82n. 15 Smith, Jonathan Z. 42 Soler, Maria Jose Garcia. 62, 63, 64 Stevenson, T. R. 64 Swain, Simon. 15 Symonds 149n. 80 Tatum, W. Jeffery 15, 29 Taubes, Jacob 144, 145n. 58, 147n. 68, 148n. 77 Thompson, Leonard L. 117 Thompson, Trevor 150, 151n. 97 Upson-Saia, Kristi 80, 81, 82, 95, 102, 104 Van Houdt, Toon 6, 7, 22, 45, 79 Vearncombe, Erin 82n. 15 Walters, Jonathan 124 Warren, Meredith 122n. 38 Widdicombe, Peter 142–3 Wiessen, David S. 70n. 158 Williams, Craig A. 71, 118–19 Wilson, Brittany E. 9

SUBJECT INDEX Adamantius 49, 50, 53, 68 Ambrose 9, 25, 50, 71–2, 97–8, 99, 104, 105, 108, 110, 111, 112 Antinous 149, 150, 151, 152, 153, 154, 155 Athanasius 18, 57n. 85, 59n. 98, 64, 75, 76, 105, 108, 112, 154 Basil 34n. 141, 76, 77n. 196, 95, 96, 97, 98, 99, 100, 106 Celsus 134, 135, 140, 141, 143, 144, 145, 150, 152 Cicero 3, 5, 20, 23, 27n. 107, 31, 32, 33, 48, 50, 63, 64, 71, 74, 85n. 25, 97, 106, 107, 112, 136n. 24 Clement of Alexandria 19, 24n. 96, 25, 28, 75n. 184, 76, 77n. 194, 81, 82n. 13, 85–94, 107–8, 112n. 174, 131n. 1, 136, 140, 143, 147, 148 Constantine 57–9, 120 Diogenes 14, 35, 63 Dionysus 133n. 8, 136, 151 Eusebius 116, 120, 127–9, 153 Galen 64, 65, 68 Gregory of Nazianzus 25, 30, 44n. 18, 72–7, 95, 96, 98, 100, 108n. 144, 111, 112, 132 Hadrian 149, 150, 151, 152, 154 Hippolytus of Rome 28, 34 Irenaeus 54, 56, 57, 140, 145, 146, 153 Jerome 35, 41, 55, 60, 61, 62, 63, 65, 66, 67, 68, 69, 70, 71, 72, 73n. 172, 81–2, 95, 96n. 71, 97, 98, 100, 104, 105, 106, 108, 123, 124, 132, 141n. 46 Jesus 2, 26, 27, 37, 44, 47, 51, 52n. 60, 112, 119, 120 and beauty 131–55 (see also “Ugly” Jesus) Proof of Jesus’ humanity 140–9, 158 “ugly” Jesus 37, 132, 140n. 43, 143, 144, 146, 147, 148, 149, 154, 155, 158 John Chrysostom 88n. 39, 107

Josephus 37, 128n. 73, 133, 137–40, 144n. 54 Jovinianus 61n. 111, 66, 67, 68, 69, 70, 71 Julian the Apostate 25, 25n. 99, 30, 41, 44n. 18, 58n. 86, 72–7, 100n. 97 Lucian of Samosata 29, 29n. 120, 48, 55, 62, 66, 84, 127n. 66, 135 Milo of Croton 62, 63, 64, 65n. 133 Moses 18, 37, 61n. 115, 122n. 38, 124, 128n. 73, 133, 137–40 Paul 25, 46, 48, 56n. 80, 94, 131n. 1, 144, 148 Pelagius 60, 61, 62, 63, 65, 66, 70, 100n. 100 Peter 47, 51, 52, 54, 133n. 8 Philo 37, 56, 133, 137, 138, 139, 137–40 Physiognomy ascetic 28, 34, 40–2, 40n. 4, 57, 58, 60, 65, 66, 67, 68n. 147, 70, 76, 80, 82, 95–106, 111, 113 (see also female ascetics) Askesis 18, 22n. 90, 34, 80n. 4, 103 astrological form 8, 28, 34 attractiveness 128, 132, 133, 134, 135, 137, 138, 141, 145, 153 (see also beauty) beard 83, 84, 85, 87, 95, 126, 135, 136, 144n. 54 beauty 52n. 60, 109, 111n. 166, 125, 128, 131, 133n. 8, 134, 135, 138, 141, 143, 145, 146, 147, 148, 150, 152, 154, 158 (bodily) comportment 1, 9, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 36, 49, 56, 60, 71, 74, 81, 82, 83, 84, 90, 91, 101n. 106, 102, 104, 105, 107, 111, 116, 117, 122, 126, 127, 129, 131, 148, 157, 158 body and soul 4–5, 33, 40, 105, 117, 148, 157 chastity 41, 82, 101, 102, 104, 109, 110, 111, 112, 113, 158 (see also female chastity) cheeks 68, 89, 101, 105 christian physiognomy 34–5, 40–2, 80–113 clergy 82, 95, 96, 97, 98, 110n. 160 (see also ascetics) clothing 9, 53, 67, 80n. 4, 82, 104, 105, 106, 107, 108, 113, 126, 136 countenance 6, 17, 18, 56, 57, 58, 83, 90, 94, 97, 99, 100, 104, 111–13, 118, 119, 122, 125, 126, 127, 135, 138 cowardice 13, 53, 54, 76, 125

172

Subject Index

credibility of 5–6, 27, 157 effeminacy 5, 9, 10, 12, 17, 19, 28, 31, 32n. 135, 45, 48, 49, 50, 51, 52, 53, 54, 68, 69, 71, 72, 74, 75, 82, 83, 84, 85, 86, 88, 89, 98, 99, 101, 107, 109, 120, 126, 135, 157 Ekphrasis 22–3, 34 emotion 83, 92, 93, 99, 100, 101, 105 ethnographic method 12–13, 34, 51, 53, 54 exhortations 82–3, 84, 85, 86, 87, 88n. 39, 89, 95, 101n. 106, 105, 113, 148 “eyes” in descriptions 3, 6, 8n. 17, 16, 17, 26, 30, 40, 57, 59, 73, 74, 75, 76, 77, 91, 105, 108, 112, 113, 120, 122, 123, 127 fasting 35, 95, 96, 97, 99, 105 female ascetics 101–13 female chastity 101, 102, 113 femininity 9, 31, 101, 102, 115, 121, 122 gait 5, 9, 11, 13, 14, 16, 17, 31, 32, 33, 47, 49–50, 51, 52, 56, 69, 71–2, 74n. 183, 75, 76, 83, 88, 91, 95, 97–8, 99, 100, 103, 104, 105, 106–10, 122, 123, 126 (see also masculinity and effeminacy) garb 60, 104, 105, 106 (see also clothing) gaze 4, 9, 22, 32, 75, 99, 111–13, 119–20, 122–3, 126 gender 49, 50n. 52, 51, 52, 112, 115, 125, 157 (see also masculinity and femininity) gender ambiguity 115, 121, 123, 129 Grief 99–101 grooming 83–7, 104 (see also beard and hair) hair 83, 84, 85, 86, 87, 126, 135, 136, 144n. 54, 150 (see also secondary sex characteristic) heretic 2, 36, 42, 43, 44, 46, 56n. 79, 59, 66, 71, 77, 78, 157 humility 60, 102, 103, 144 hybrid gender 121, 124 (see also Perpetua) identity 80, 117, 157 invariable method 13, 116, 127, 147, 148 kinaidos 14, 32, 49, 52, 74, 89 laughter 76, 76n. 194, 77, 93–4, 99–101 lay Christian male 82, 83–94, 95 lust 17, 53, 86, 95, 104, 105n. 125, 112, 154 moderation 7, 62, 67, 87, 89, 98, 99, 107 modesty 15, 82, 85, 91, 98, 99, 103, 104, 106, 108, 109, 110, 111, 112, 123 male voice 48–9, 83, 88–9, 139 (see also masculinity and femininity) manuals 20–3, 31–4, 46, 49, 50, 53, 74, 75, 79, 119, 135, 137 Martyrs of Lyons 116, 124–5 Martyrdom of Pionius 116, 120, 122n. 38, 125–7

Martyrdom of Polycarp 115, 119–20, 125 Martyrdom of Vincent 127 Mary the Mother of Jesus 105, 110, 112 masculinity 9, 10, 17, 24, 25, 31, 32, 48, 50, 51, 52, 58, 59, 71, 75, 82, 83, 84, 115, 117, 120, 121, 123, 126, 129, 139 masculinize 115, 118, 119, 121, 122 moral superiority 1, 2, 101, 103, 113 Origen 123, 134, 135, 136, 140, 141, 142, 143, 144, 145, 150, 152, 153 overweight 62–5, 67, 68, 70, 90 pagan 36, 79, 81, 82, 93, 102, 102n. 110, 103, 104, 110, 113, 120, 134, 153, 154, 155, 157, 158 pale 17, 29, 41, 42, 57, 58, 68n. 150, 70n. 157, 91, 95, 96, 97, 100, 105, 106, 126, 127 palestine martyrs 127–9 perpetua 115–16, 121–4, 126, 129 persuasion 1, 2, 4, 10, 16, 22, 23, 24, 27, 34, 35, 36, 39, 45, 46, 74, 78, 80, 132, 134, 147, 157, 158 (see also rhetoric) physical appearance 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 11, 14, 18, 29, 30, 32n. 133, 35, 41, 54, 57, 58, 68, 71, 73, 80, 81, 95, 103, 128, 131, 135, 136n. 24, 137, 143, 144n. 54, 145, 157 physiognomy consciousness 15–19, 26, 29–30, 52n. 60, 63, 82, 117, 131, 132, 134, 137, 140n. 43, 143 piety 77, 103, 104, 106, 119, 120, 139 pious gestures 86, 96n. 71, 120, 126, 149 rhetoric 1, 2, 4, 20, 21, 22, 23, 25, 27, 28, 30, 36, 37, 39, 40, 42, 43, 44, 45, 46, 48, 57, 69, 74, 79, 80, 83, 101, 113, 116, 131, 132, 133, 134, 135, 140, 143, 146, 147, 148, 155, 157, 158 role model/exemplar 81, 95, 103, 105, 109, 110, 112, 116, 117, 129, 158 self-control 41, 42, 50, 59, 76, 77, 89–94, 102, 115 (see also masculinity and effeminacy) self-presentation 6–7, 22, 31, 79, 83, 89, 107, 113 silence 43, 99, 100, 105, 112n. 174 slave 6, 10, 16, 17, 29, 31, 48, 50, 51, 53n. 64, 69, 75, 118n. 10, 124, 131n. 1, 148 social relations 7–8, 10–11, 21, 87, 89, 91, 93, 94, 101, 102, 103, 104, 107, 109, 113, 121, 133, 135, 136, 145, 154, 155, 157, 158 (see also group boundaries) speech 3, 20, 21, 22, 46, 47, 48, 51, 56n. 79, 73, 77, 88, 89, 99, 105, 107, 110–11, 119, 120, 125, 137, 139, 139n. 39, 158 “third method” 11, 13

Subject Index ugly 28, 37, 107, 124, 125, 132, 133, 134, 136n. 21, 140n. 43, 141, 142, 143, 144, 146, 147, 148, 149, 150n. 85, 152, 154, 155, 158 used to define group boundaries 36, 46, 79, 80–2, 83, 86, 87, 89, 93, 102, 103, 104, 109, 110, 113, 117, 121, 124, 125, 134, 135, 136, 144, 145, 152, 154, 155, 157, 158 (see also social relations) used to discredit one’s opponent 26, 29, 36, 58, 59, 134, 154, 157 variable method 13, 148, 157 voice 83, 88, 88n. 40, 91, 97, 98–9, 105, 108, 110–11, 120, 135 zoological method 11–12, 34, 54, 56, 90n. 45 Plautus 52, 68, 70n. 159, 71

173

Plutarch 15, 16, 28, 29, 31, 69n. 151, 138 Polemo 7, 9, 11, 20, 23, 26, 32, 45, 46, 49, 53, 68n. 148, 73, 74 Prudentius 116, 117–18, 122n. 38, 127 Ps. Aristotle 4n. 4, 5 nn. 6 and 8, 11, 12, 13, 14, 33, 49, 53, 63, 74, 120n. 21, 128 Quintilian 22, 23, 48, 49, 66, 74, 75, 76, 125 Seneca 58, 59, 63, 77, 112 Simon Magus 47–54 Socrates 8n. 17, 27n. 107, 28, 59, 134, 143 “Suffering Servant” 27, 37, 52n. 60, 131, 142, 145n. 58, 148 Tertullian 54–6, 56n. 79, 81, 84, 85, 88, 102, 104, 109, 110, 111, 123, 124, 145, 146, 147, 153